


An Unexpected Otter

by AnotherAldebaran



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus, F/M, Otters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAldebaran/pseuds/AnotherAldebaran
Summary: Severus Snape is befriended by a small furry otter who seeks him out during the school years. Who is she and why did she choose him? How does she affect his life? A story of healing, friendship and longing. A short-ish tale in 10 not very long chapters (plus an epilogue), slow burn, mainly canon compliant minus DH's epilogue of course. Story is complete, all chapters up!





	1. Otter-ly Comfortable

**A/N:** This little fic didn't want to leave me alone while I was trying to finish my other WIP so here you go. It's a relatively short story that for once stays very close to canon, with the exception of the epilogue of course. This one has (rather obviously!) borrowed inspiration from the great corvusdraconis but the actual story is mine. This will be a slow burn, T rated.

Enjoy!

/AA

^—^—^—^

-x-o-x-o-x-

**Otter-ly Comfortable**

Severus Snape sat stiffly next to Quirinus Quirrell while the new batch of first-years were to be sorted. He often tried to sit next to either Minerva, Septima or Hooch for the sorting as all three of them were excellent betting companions, but this year he had drawn the short straw. Quirrell was odder than ever, insisting on wearing a turban and being skittish and paranoid.

They were always so small. He recalled his own sorting but at the same time it was hard to think that he and Lily had ever been that small. He noticed another redhead in the batch. _Great. Another Weasley. Just what we need._ Draco Malfoy was also there this year, his godson, a spoiled little brat if there ever was one, destined for Slytherin of course. Otherwise the batch of students looked pretty much like they always did, with one notable exception.

He hadn't been able to avoid the fact that Harry James Potter was due to start this year. The scrawny boy who walked up to the podium looked just like James but skinnier. And he had her eyes. Lily's eyes, in James' face. Albus had already pulled him aside earlier and reminded him of the promises he had made, making his burden of guilt and longing just a little bit heavier again. His eyes were drawn to the boy's messy hair at the Gryffindor table once the meal had begun, of course Potter would be in Gryffindor, where else, and one time their eyes met across the Hall, contact broken when Potter rubbed that hideous scar he wore on his forehead ever since that horrible night.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Much later that same evening he pulled on his shabby nightshirt and doused the lights before falling into his large and fluffy bed, the one luxury that Hogwarts provided apart from the free meals. _Thirty-one blasted years old and this is all I have to show for it? What is the point? Why am I doing this, again?_

Something woke him up in the middle of the night, a sound or movement perhaps, something out of place. Quietly he Summoned his wand and lit the lights in the room but didn't see anything out of place, and his wards were undisturbed. After checking all rooms again, including the bathroom, he went to bed again but kept hold of his wand.

There it was again. A very muffled squeaky noise from somewhere on the floor. He lit his wand with a nonverbal _Lumos_ and got the shock of his life when two dark eyes peered at him from the side of his bed. When the creature noticed him looking, it chirped and suddenly jumped up next to him in bed. An otter, by the looks of it, a young one, all brown fluff and large eyes.

"How did you get in?" he muttered as the otter sniffed at his shoulder, hair, and bicep before apparently deciding that he was a good substitute for whatever it was looking for.

The otter squeaked at him again, licked his chin with a raspy tongue and curled up in a ball right by his arm, apparently content to go to sleep.

"Ah well, I will deal with you in the morning if you belong to one of the new first-years," he muttered.

Soon both otter and man slept soundly, his large hand splayed over the otter's soft back.

In the morning he woke up alone as usual, and would have thought that the whole otter thing was merely a dream if it weren't for the tufts of brown otter fur that had rubbed off onto his nightshirt, and the faint smell of sea in his bedsheets.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The otter didn't show up anywhere during the next few weeks. He kept his ears open but nothing seemed amiss; no otters were reported as pets and no one was complaining about suddenly appearing aquatic mammals. He scoured the library for information about otters and found a bit about their habits and a bit about the symbolism but nothing that indicated why an otter would choose to materialise in his bedroom in the middle of the night, without disturbing his wards.

He really couldn't understand Albus' motivations for keeping Gryffindor paired with Slytherin so often for classes, especially in Potions. The new first-years were worse in that regard than basically every prior year he had taught until his own school years with the Marauders, with the insolent Potter brat and his ginger sidekick mouthing off at Severus at every opportunity or at the equally insolent Slytherin brat Draco whom he had to coddle. The class also contained an insufferable bushy-haired girl who thought that she could get to answer every single question if she only raised her hand high enough. At least she was a fast learner, surprisingly so for a Muggle-born.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Another late Friday night after he had finished his rounds and wanted nothing more than oblivion, the otter showed up again. This time he heard the shuffling of paws as he was reading a Muggle paperback novel in his customary shabby leather wingback armchair in his small sitting room, nearly done with a glass of Ogdens. It padded up to him, squeaking like an old rubber toy, and rose up with its front paws on his knee to get a better view.

"Hello," he said, eyebrow raised. It still didn't look very threatening, and rather young. The otter cocked its head and squeaked back.

"Can you understand me?" he asked, feeling decidedly silly.

The otter bobbed its head vigorously, so perhaps it wasn't quite so silly. Still, he wanted to make sure.

"Could you jump up on the couch if you do understand me?" he asked, not looking at the couch next to him. Sure enough, the otter did jump up on the couch, squeaking all the while.

"Sorry, I don't speak Otter. Are you an Animagus?"

The otter squeaked again and scratched an ear with a paw, looking unconcerned or perhaps not understanding the question.

"Are you female? Or male?" The otter had bobbed its head at the first suggestion.

"A girl then?"

She squeaked again, bobbing her head.

"By the way, I did some research on otters. You appear to be an Eurasian otter, and I am quite certain that your natural habitat doesn't include dungeon bedrooms in old magical castles." He regarded her sternly, arms crossed, in his best Professor Snape mode.

She chirrped at him, apparently not too concerned.

"Do you have a name?"

The otter bobbed her head again before looking around the room. She bounded over to his old piano that stood along the wall, rather dusty and piled with stacks of parchment and a few books. She leapt up on the stool, dislodging a few of the scrolls, and squeaked at him, clearly wanting him to lift the lid. He approached cautiously and did so, and to his astonishment she played the standard C major scale, squeaking at him to see if he was listening. She played it again and looked up at him, and then once more stopping after the third note, the E.

"E?"

Angry chirping and she played the scale again, all of it at first and then just the E.

"Do … re … mi?"

The otter played the E again and chirped agitatedly.

"Mi?"

The otter bounded down off the chair and squeaked, chasing her own tail like an excited dog.

"Alright, Mi, are you sure you aren't an Animagus? I definitely don't think regular otters play the piano."

If an otter could look confused, she did. She shook her head again and scratched her chin.

He rose to get ready for bed. When he finally doused the lights and turned down the covers, the little brown creature was already curled up in a near perfect circle beside his pillow, front paws in the air, fast asleep. Shaking his head at her, he slipped in next to the young creature, finding it odd to share his bed with a female even if she happened to be small and furry. She nestled in by the crook of his arm, resting her cheek on his bicep. Her fur was among the softest things he had ever touched, and he quickly fell asleep, lured by her soft snorting sounds.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

His dark mood soured even further when Hagrid's blasted Cerberus managed to nick his leg. What on Earth made Albus think that such a creature would belong in a school? He was just cleaning the wound when she showed up again, chirping anxiously at the sight of his leg. He had to shoo her off when she tried to lick the wound that he had just treated with Dittany, but her presence felt reassuring somehow, as if someone actually cared about him for once.

During the rest of the school year she showed up occasionally. After the second occasion he started keeping notes, collecting research on otters, notes on her behaviour and the dates she appeared. Still, there didn't seem to be any pattern to her visits and he was no closer by the end of the school year to guess her identity. He'd made some subtle inquiries to Minerva regarding Animagus training but she claimed that no one was currently attempting the transformation. He asked the house elves for some extra fish whenever she appeared which made her squeak happily, but he had to veto her trying to feed him raw cod, head, bones and all. A few times he let her inside his lab when he had to brew a batch of potions for the Infirmary, with stern warnings that she must stay absolutely still and not try anything foolish. Her favourite spots were to either curl up on the work bench next to his cauldron, or perched on his shoulders, peering through his curtain of hair, tickling his ear with her whiskers and occasionally squeakily commenting on his work or licking his neck.

She did make his days just a little brighter, despite the dark clouds that seemed to be gathering on the horizon. He had never been one to care about pets but finally he could understand what made people keep dogs or cats. Not that he wanted one, anyway: a randomly appearing otter seemed just right in terms of commitment.


	2. Otter Calling

**Otter Calling**

He did not see the otter at all during the summer which he mainly spent at Hogwarts, brewing and researching, with a few weeks at his old home. That too seemed to be a clue of sorts. She must have been connected to the students, one way or the other. He didn't think any of the staff was responsible for the young otter.

She came to him again on the first night of term, squeaking and trying to crawl all the way up to his neck, seemingly as happy to see him as he was to see her, not that he admitted that even to himself. She had grown a bit but still appeared to be a cub although a regular otter would be fully grown after a year. Her whiskers tickled his neck as they read a potions journal together in his armchair.

He even began playing the piano again, with her on the bench next to him. It had been years since he last touched it and it took him a while to get his hands to cooperate. She seemed to favour Chopin especially, the Nocturnes, and would occasionally prod him more or less insistently and imperiously squeak at the music books, flipping them to the right page, until he played the one she wanted.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The piano had belonged to an elderly lady called Mrs Ingham who lived a few houses down the street where he grew up, and where he often ran to escape his father's drunken rage and his mother's misery. She had seemed as lonely as he was, rarely visited by her own son who lived in Manchester and rather gambled and drank than spent time with his mum. She had taught him to play, and thus he had spent long hours next to her on the piano bench, getting lost in music. He never asked but afterwards he figured out that she must have been a concert pianist in her youth, or something similar.

His parents died under somewhat suspicious circumstances during the spring of his sixth year, leaving him the ramshackle house and not much of an income. When he returned to the dilapidated street for the summer break, now an orphan, the first thing he did was to visit Mrs Ingham only to find that she too was dying. The house stank of illness and rotting food.

He spent the next month caring for her, changing her bedclothes, surreptitiously cleaning things up with magic, bringing her canned soup and a tissue when she was coughing up her lungs. Before she died she told him to take the piano and all her sheet music so that her deadbeat son wouldn't just sell them for booze money.

That summer had been among the worst of his life. He felt adrift, cut loose from the world, now that Lily refused to talk to him, his parents were dead, and his only remaining safe haven had also left him. He had carefully levitated the piano out of her house in the dead of night so that no Muggles would complain about a floating piano, and so he spent the rest of the summer angrily playing all the dramatic pieces he could find in her music books. On the day he came to her house to find her dead she had left him an envelope next to her bed with a stack of pound notes and a letter that he hadn't been able to force himself to read for several years. The money at least ensured that he didn't starve during the holidays.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Somehow the loneliness became slightly more bearable with an occasional squeaky companion. She loved it when he drew a bath and always insisted on sharing, although he self-consciously wore swimming trunks when she joined him. Hogwarts Castle seemed to like the young otter and had enlarged the whole bathroom and its marble tub without him asking for it, making it more like a tiny swimming pool than a regular tub, complete with a tiny waterfall along one edge and marble slabs of varying heights that were just perfect for an otter to lounge on. It was, truly, glorious and he was absolutely certain that Albus had no knowledge whatsoever about it. The old goat would surely remove it had he known, saying that Severus should know his place and that such luxuries didn't aid with his penance.

He still had his suspicions about Mi's identity. She must be an Animagus even if she denied it, and she was most likely a student. However, Minerva hadn't trained anyone in the art in recent years, it was a serious commitment, and why on earth would a student Animagus spend her time with him, Professor Snape, the most feared and reviled professor in the Castle? It didn't make sense. Yet here she was, greeting him with cheerful chirps and often sleeping curled up as close to his body as she could.

Albus had insisted on giving the DADA post to a total fraud this year. Severus wondered if Albus had hired the ponce just for his looks or if it was another sly dig at him for wanting the post, a way of saying that even a complete imbecile was preferable to him. At least he'd had the satisfaction of taking him down a notch or two, or ten, when Lockhart asked him to demonstrate duelling. Mi had showed up that same evening and seemed rather excited about something which went well with his own mood, and they had spent the evening in the tub, Mi eating raw clams that she at first tried to gnaw open but soon had her pet wizard opening for her with a wandless spell, and Severus settling for a carefully levitated tray of Stilton cheese on crackers and a glass of a nice red wine.

The Muggleborn Gryffindor nuisance managed to turn herself into a cat over Christmas and he hadn't laughed so hard in a long time as when he saw her in the Infirmary. He'd had to excuse himself to Poppy's potions cupboard to not make a fool of himself in front of a student, even if she happened to be half cat. Still, it appeared as if she had actually managed to brew Polyjuice on her own and merely used the wrong hair, which was more than impressive for a second-year. The fact that she must have stolen the ingredients from him detracted from his willingness to brew the antidote, and he took a few days extra to do it just because. The Potter brat was acting weird again, of course, but somehow Severus didn't think he was behind what was happening, even if he insinuated as much whenever he could. Him being a Parselmouth was decidedly odd however.

The school year turned out to be even more eventful than the prior one, with students Petrified and ominous messages on the walls. Unfortunately Potter did get off the hook when his friend got Petrified. Albus was temporarily removed from the school which in some ways made his life easier, at least Minerva was straightforward rather than manipulative.

One quiet night after his rounds, acting on impulse, he walked silently into the Infirmary. The hall was dark apart from moonlight coming through the large windows, casting everything in pale blue. Poppy had withdrawn for the night. Her assistant Mediwitch had popped out from their office when she heard him opening the door but merely nodded at him and withdrew, letting him seek out the one he sought.

She lay still and silent on the bed, her hand outstretched, her face frozen in a frown. He wondered what she'd been up to when something caught her. Here, in the quiet of the Infirmary, he was able to admit to himself that this girl was quite exceptional, and that the way he treated her was completely abominable. Not that there was much of a choice with her being a Gryffindor, Muggleborn, and in the same class as Draco Malfoy and several other Death Eater offspring. She was the only one since Lily that seemed to have an intellectual appetite that matched his own, even if she still relied way too much on textbooks to find answers. She was young, after all. She would learn.

He sat with her for an hour or so, well until the moon had moved away from her window, casting her in shadows once again.


	3. One Otter, Two Otter

**One Otter, Two Otter**

The Gryffindor brat's third year was full of drama right from the start, of course. On top of it all he now had to brew Wolfsbane for one of his former tormentors. Although Remus bloody Lupin had been better than Black or Potter Senior, he had still been passively complicit in their vicious attacks by not bothering to stop his friends, and he quickly showed his colours by regaling the staff room with tales of the Longbottom boy's Boggart. Lupin soon had everyone laughing, including the Headmaster, or maybe not quite everyone? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Minerva's pinched frown, and as he stiffly rose to leave the room he heard her berating the shaggy wolf.

Minerva called on him later that evening, after rounds. She brought a bottle of scotch, poured each of them a glass and made herself comfortable in his shabby leather sofa. For some reason her presence in his quarters made him feel self-conscious about the state of the room. The furniture was old and shabby, dusty and neglected; much like himself, or so it felt. He knew he could ask the elves to clean up the dust and also to polish everything up a bit, but he just couldn't be bothered to do it. He'd seen the quarters of a few other teachers, Minerva included, and knew that they were much nicer than his, with views over the lake or the forest and with additional rooms according to their needs, and with furniture that was personalised to their own tastes. Albus had stuck him in the dungeon rooms when he was first employed, claiming he ought to be close to his Slytherins and his office and classroom, and that was that.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Minerva said finally once she'd drained her second glass of whisky. "I should have known better."

He merely looked at her across the rim of his glass, quite sure she wasn't talking about recent events. He was seated in his customary armchair, long legs crossed at the ankles in front of him.

"What happened between you and Remus, Severus?"

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and stared into the fire. "Minerva. Why do you care, now? It's been nearly twenty years."

She sat up straighter and fixed him with her best Professor glare, which merely had him raise an eyebrow at her as he sipped his whisky.

"Because I consider you a friend, Severus Snape, and friends care about one another. I knew the Marauders were troublemakers but I thought they were just pranksters that sometimes went too far, and that you were also pretty good at giving it back to them."

He laughed, mirthlessly. "Oh no, Minerva. You did know, even then. Four against one? How is that ever fair? But of course it was easier to turn a blind eye, after all it was the golden boys of Gryffindor, the Pureblood paragons and their tagalongs, against a nobody. A poor ugly half-blood Slytherin without friends or connections. Who would ever take my side against their bullying? It was made perfectly clear that I would be expelled at the drop of a hat while Black and Potter could get away with murder. Come to think of it, they very nearly did."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. He hadn't exactly planned to share all those details, not with her, not with anyone. "Black lured me out to the Shrieking Shack under the full moon. Potter actually saved me from becoming wolf food. Our esteemed headmaster let Black off with a week's worth of detention and in turn threatened me with expulsion if I told anyone of what had happened."

Minerva looked utterly gobsmacked but Severus was distracted by a very faint squeak that came through the bedroom door which had been left ajar. He hoped the young otter had enough common sense not to barge in on him when Minerva was there. For some reason he didn't want her involved in the mystery that was Mi's presence in his life. When he shifted his focus back to the older witch she was swearing half under her breath in Scottish, without repeating herself once.

"Who are you calling a bawbag, now?" he asked mildly.

She seemed almost surprised by his interruption before she collected herself again. "Oh, Albus of course. I can't believe the nerve of him! Letting them get away with that?"

It felt oddly nice to have her angry on his behalf like that. "Well, if you're really into it you could always drop some mice in his sock drawer," he suggested which caused her to laugh and agree.

The rest of the evening was spent on lighter subjects. She asked about the piano since it was now free from piles of parchment, dust and debris, but he declined playing for her, claiming he was unused to an audience but in reality not wanting to lure Mi out from the bedroom by playing. Once she finally left, he left for his bedroom to check if she was still there.

The otter was indeed there. She peeked up from his blankets where she appeared to have made a nest of sorts, and launched herself at him, squeaking all the time as she climbed his robes to nestle on his shoulders. She was getting larger but his robes still gave her plenty of footholds. Together they walked down to his labs, he needed to start the first stages of Wolfsbane for Lupin since the potion took three weeks and several brewing stages to complete.

The thought of having to brew the complex potion for his childhood tormentor chafed less than it had only that morning. Having Minerva and Mi on his side made it more bearable. He would still benefit from brewing it in other ways as the recipe yielded more than what one person needed, and he could siphon off the excess just before the final stage and sell it to St Mungo's where they would complete the brew and give it to those who needed it. He had also decided to forget adding a twig of mint right at the end that would make it taste somewhat more palatable.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

He poured the steaming potion into a goblet and put the rest of the brew back in stasis for Lupin's second round of Wolfsbane.

"Come on, Mi. I can't take you along where I need to go. He'd sniff you out in an instant."

The otter looked highly affronted and stalked back into his bathroom, as much as an otter could stalk, angrily squeaking all the way. He could hear the water filling the tub before the bathroom door somehow slammed shut. With a sigh he made his way up to the wolf's den, carrying the steaming goblet of potion.

"Come in, who is it?" Lupin called as he knocked the door.

Severus opened the door without answering and merely raised an eyebrow as he placed the goblet in front of the shaggy wolf who eyed it in distaste before downing all of it at once, shuddering at the horrible taste which had Severus smirking. He must have forgotten the mint, again. How forgetful of him.

Lupin sniffed the air and wrinkled his forehead. "There's something odd about you, Severus, have you been swimming in the lake? You smell a bit… marine?"

Severus shrugged. "Merely trying to teach the house-elves how to make sushi, with limited success so far."

He quickly left the room before Lupin could sniff out anything more. The wolf unsettled him, he still thought Albus was insane to bring him in such close proximity to children but the old man didn't want to listen to his concerns. It still took a bucket full of fish to get the otter to forgive him for the horrible transgression of not letting her accompany him to deliver the potion.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The Dementors were another source of pain and misery. He had been present at the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch game, if only to bet against Minerva, but didn't take much joy in winning when it was due to those soul-sucking demons causing Potter to fall. That night he took Mi up to the Astronomy tower. They looked out over the grounds, the windy November night quite chilly and damp. The Dementors were circling around the perimeter, their presence even at a distance chilly and dreadful.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_ he cast, swirling his wand around in a large movement, and the brilliantly white doe burst forth and pranced around the tower. Mi squeaked and chattered with it, and the two animals started playing a game of what looked like tag, one ghostly white and one squeaky brown. Oddly enough, although he had pulled up his usual memory of receiving his Hogwarts letter and telling Lily about it, other thoughts had also snuck in, featuring said furry creature sleeping sprawled in his bed, or perched on his armchair as he corrected essays, or on the piano bench.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Mi showed up more often than prior years, several times a week even, bringing some brightness to his life even as the rest of it was miserable as usual. If he was brewing, he found himself telling her about the process, the ingredients and the modifications he had made, almost as if she were his apprentice. It made him feel wistful sometimes. This was how Potions should be taught, and here he was with an otter instead of an attentive student. Still, she eagerly supervised the whole process and seemed to like his commentary. He started testing her skills, asking her to point out which ingredient to add or when to stop stirring. She also tried to help him correct essays by offering a squeaky commentary to each of them. He suspected that if she could wield a quill, she'd be almost as vicious as he was with his comments.

She wasn't quite herself after the Christmas break, more subdued and passive than she used to, seeking his touch or hiding under his robes but not talking as much as she used to. Had something upset her? He still didn't know who she was and had stopped prying for fear of what he would find out, so he didn't know what could have caused her sadness. She did snap out of it briefly when she discovered that it was his birthday by noticing the mismatched socks he got from Albus together with an antique Potions manuscript, and the bottle of scotch and black woollen slippers he had received from Minerva. She squeaked in what almost sounded like embarrassment and jumped up to the piano, where she managed to painstakingly hammer out Happy Birthday To You with one webbed paw and accompanying chirps. It was the best gift he'd ever received, which he told her as he scooped her up in a hug. They spent the rest of the evening in the bathtub again, him with a glass of Minerva's scotch and her with some salmon the house elves provided.

He still detested teaching. Albus was as annoying as usual, and the first signs of escalation of conflict could be seen. Something was brewing, he could almost taste it.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

One evening in the middle of term she was curled up on his couch while he corrected essays, reading parts of them out loud to her. The bedroom door slowly creaked open, causing him to look up sharply. A small ottery face peered through, causing the one on his couch to look up sharply. One otter looked at the other otter which appeared to be the same otter, and squeaked in terror. Both of her ran from the room, squeaking, while he tried to make sense of the whole thing and utterly failed.

The end of term brought his fears to life when Remus bloody Lupin forgot his Wolfsbane, because of course he did, the three Gryffindor menaces Stunned him and deprived him of a sure Order of Merlin, and to top it all off apparently Sirius sodding Black was innocent of betraying Lily and the snivelling Peter Pettigrew was to blame, according to Albus. The retaliation of letting Slytherin students know that Lupin was a werewolf wasn't enough to make up for it all.


	4. Otter-ly Suspicious

**A/N:** I'm glad to see so many enjoying this little story! Since I didn't intend for you to be all confused, a certain otter might have been sad in the last chapter over the fact that a certain other young wizard got a new broom from an unknown source and a certain someone asked Professor McGonagall to check it for hexes, which led to said young wizard and his best friend not talking to one of his other best friends for well over a month. Clear as mud? Then, Onwards!

/AA

**Otter-ly Suspicious**

Another summer passed, with research and blessed silence. The ominous rumbling of war was drawing closer. Lucius Bloody Malfoy organised a show-down on the eve of the Quidditch World Cup, creating havoc and panic just for the sake of it. He hadn't joined the … festivities, not able to afford a ticket to the games and not really wishing to participate in the wanton destruction. Lucius claimed to be a friend when it suited him but Severus had no illusions about the blond aristocrat actually standing up for him if the choice was between Severus Snape and something or someone more lucrative. Lucius still seemed to believe in that Pureblood superiority drivel, despite the fact that Muggleborns and Halfbloods often appeared to be more magically powerful, although it was as always hard to know what the man really thought about anything as opposed to what was just politics.

So, Albus wanted to host a Triwizard Tournament. No matter what, Severus was quite convinced that it would end in disaster, one way or the other. The return of the students brought with it the return of his favourite otter who returned to him that very evening, greeting him exuberantly. _At least there is someone who is glad to see me,_ he vaguely thought. Truth be told, he was rather glad to have her back too, no matter who she actually was. On some level he probably knew already, but he didn't want to voice those thoughts aloud as that would inevitably change the nature of their connection, making it impossible for him to allow her to be so close.

Inevitably Halloween arrived again, the worst time of the year as far as Severus was concerned. Albus always forced him to endure the… _festivities_ _…_ of the season, claiming it wasn't good for his mental health to shut himself in and wallow in grief the way he wanted to. This year was worse than usual with the bloody Triwizard antics, and as could be expected, Potter stole the spotlight again. Luckily the confusion over the stupid Tournament meant that Severus could excuse himself early.

He was halfway through the bottle of Firewhisky, reminiscing about Lily and his two fickle masters who failed him, failed her, just as he himself had failed her. That blessed stage of oblivion refused to arrive, however. He missed her sorely, her fiery presence, her smile, all of her. The ache in his chest grew heavier, spreading to his legs, fogging his vision, making every breath hurt until the very act of existing felt too painful. He couldn't take it anymore but there was no way out, or well there always was to a Potions Master, but he had long ago made a deal with himself not to think of his ingredients and creations that way.

Much later, when he felt as empty and drained as the bottle he'd downed, he vaguely heard her squeaking in his bedroom.

"Go 'way," he murmured.

She didn't, however. Of course not. She slunk in and seemed to assess the situation, sniffing him over, her front paws on the armrest of the wingback chair he was slumped in. She wrinkled her nose and seemed to come to a decision. With a squeak at him she turned around and left the room which made him feel oddly guilty. He didn't want company but he didn't want her to leave him alone, either. Soon he could hear the taps being turned on in the bathroom and she seemed to be rustling through his drawers, searching for something or just being nosey. Come to think of it, he had no idea how an otter managed to handle the taps to the bathtub but he suspected that Hogwarts had something to do with it. The Castle definitely seemed to like the young aquatic animal.

She showed up again, tracking wet paw- and tail prints all over the floor. With a series of very commanding chirps she made it clear that he was to come to the bathroom now, thankyouverymuch. Why was it that the only ones he could stand to be around were bossy females? Lily, Minerva and now a squeaky otter. Knowing very well that there was no way to refuse, he slowly tried to stand up but the room kept spinning around him. He managed a few unsteady steps, steadied by the backrest of the couch, before his stomach decided to turn itself inside out and the whisky he had imbibed made its way up again onto his floor and area rug, burning as badly as on the way down. "Buggrit," he muttered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, now more determined to reach the bathroom. At least he knew there was no way he could clean the mess with magic in his current state, so he called for a house-elf who nervously looked around his chambers before resolutely setting to work.

She'd managed to dig out both a Sober-Up Potion and a Hangover Potion from his stash in the bedside cabinet, and he downed them both before he lowered himself in the tub which was scented with lavender oil. Mi hopped up on a ledge in the tub but for once she didn't join him in the water, seemingly content with watching over him.

A short while later she coaxed him to bed and he pulled her as close as he dared, her chin on his bicep, a webbed paw on his chest.

"Please don't leave me," he murmured, half asleep already. "Everyone does, everyone I care about. They always leave."

She licked his cheek then and squeaked at him, softly.

The next morning she was still there when he awoke to a pounding headache and sand in his eyes and mouth, despite the potions the evening before.

"Thank you," he murmured. "You need to go?"

She licked his forehead, wrinkled her nose at his morning breath and nodded. Still, she had stayed with him when he asked. She had stayed. With him.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The Yule Ball was another of Albus' great ideas, in the eyes of probably everyone in the Castle but him. He'd given his Slytherins a lesson on dance and etiquette so that they knew how to behave, but most of them were Pureblood from families that either were wealthy and well-connected, or aspired to be, and already knew the steps. His Prefects would sort out those from less privileged upbringings so that they didn't make a fool of themselves, and that was that. Minerva had been complaining in the staff room about her Gryffindors and their lack of grace, to his great amusement.

He was as surprised as the rest of the room when Durmstrang's champion escorted Miss Granger to the floor, hardly recognisable with a nice dress and her hair tamed into submission. When had she transformed from a frizzy-haired child to a budding young woman? She'd be beautiful once she grew into her skin and confidence a bit more, and she would make some young wizard very happy. She twirled in the dance on Krum's arm as if they'd been practicing for a year, contrasting his stern and rigid demeanour rather well.

Miss Granger actually shot him a dazzling smile as the first dance finished, causing his eyebrows to rise to his hairline before he got his face under control. She appeared as confused as he was, however, and the smile quickly faded into a frown before she wrenched her eyes off of his. He surreptitiously checked that he wasn't standing right in front of a Weasley or someone else that she could have intended to smile at, but it didn't appear that way.

As the evening progressed, he couldn't get the image of her smile off his mind. It reminded him of something. Someone? People didn't smile at him like that, uninhibited.

Later in the evening he was out stalking the rose bushes, viciously taking out his frustrations over the ever darkening Mark and the nasty Durmstrang Headmaster and the sheer level of stupidity shown by hormonally driven teenagers on the wiry brambles, when he heard the sound of struggle further along the path.

"No! Stop!"

Suddenly on alert he walked faster, almost but not quite breaking into a run when he heard her next words.

"Viktor! I don't want to! Get off me!"

He rounded a corner to a secluded alcove behind the rose bushes. With a growl he pulled the Triwizard champion off of Miss Granger, of course it would be her, who else? She cast a fearful and somewhat ashamed look at him while she scrambled up from the ground and righted her clothing. He was completely infuriated, Krum had no right to her, especially not against her will.

"She … said … no!" he snarled at the young wizard, having pulled him very close by the collar of his dress robes. He vaguely noticed Miss Granger moving in behind him, sobbing quietly. The sound made him even angrier. "If I hear any rumours about you even _thinking_ about approaching one of the witches here you will be _very_ sorry, Mr Krum," he growled.

Krum's eyes went very wide and he nodded, clearly understanding the implications. Durmstrang had a slightly different approach to the Dark Arts, after all, and Severus did have a reputation.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered as the Triwizard champion scurried off.

"Think nothing of it," he replied automatically, taking in her slightly mussed look and tear-streaked face. He cleaned the dirt off her dress with a flick of his wand. "I shall escort you back, Miss Granger."

He held out his arm for her automatically but felt some surprise when she accepted.

"Please, sir, I don't want to go back to the Feast," she begged.

"Gryffindor tower, then?"

She nodded. "Yes. Thank you, sir."

They moved together up through the Castle, staying away from others until they were in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, neither of them speaking. When she'd climbed halfway through the portrait hole she turned towards him and smiled at him. He gave her a curt nod and waited to leave until the portrait had closed again.

That night when he had just pulled the covers up over himself in bed, Mi arrived again. She squeaked and jumped up in his bed and licked his chin with a raspy tongue.

"You're worth someone better than him," he murmured, half asleep already, and pulled her close.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

It had been an odd year, all in all. Someone was nicking expensive ingredients from his stores but Mi had denied involvement. Potter had made it through the first two Triwizard tasks on pure luck. The ever darkening Mark on his arm had his mood follow suit. Couldn't it all end soon? What chances did he stand of making up for his mistakes before it did end?

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Pain. So much pain.

He had forgotten how bad multiple bouts of Cruciatus felt from his supposed fellow brethren, especially coupled with vicious kicks and various hexes. He thought his spleen might be ruptured. Or his liver. Or something else that shouldn't be throbbing like that. He vaguely registered being dumped at the Hogwarts gates and that someone actually did him a favour by trying to open the gates which would summon Hagrid to see who wanted access. One of his eyes was completely swollen shut, his jaw was dislocated on one side and some bastard had broken his nose, again. His shin bone was also broken and several fingers were dislocated, and someone must have brought in a horse to stomp on his ribcage. Fighting to hold on to consciousness he vaguely registered a large figure approaching, lantern high in one hand. The unmistakeable dialect gave him away. Hagrid. Gratefully he allowed himself to let go as Hagrid picked him up like a child. Part of him wondered who was whimpering before he realised that it was him, and then darkness mercifully claimed him.

Some indeterminate time later he woke up in the Infirmary, in the closed-off section for staff. Poppy must have spent a long time trying to sort him out; he was clad in a hospital gown, his hand and leg were bandaged, and he could smell the bruise-healing salve up close, it must be all over his face. Blasted Albus suggesting that he should wait before going to answer the Summons. As if the Dark Lord would simply agree that it made sense that Severus would try to deceive Albus into thinking Severus wasn't a Death Eater, and forgive him his tardiness? Exactly how would Albus have known there was a Summons anyway, unless Severus had told him? Bloody meddling old codger, did he set Severus up for torture on purpose?

He sensed rather than heard her come. Shuffling squeaking sounds as she seemed to sniff around the beds before she jumped up on his, causing him to hiss with pain when his weight shifted. She immediately flinched and he feebly raised a hand towards her to calm her down.

"Mi…" His voice was barely more than a croak. She whined and chirped and wiggled up so that she could sniff his neck. Not until she licked his cheek, careful not to dislodge the healing salve, did he notice the tears tracking down his nose. "Don't let Albus catch you here," he mumbled against her fur.

There was at least one person, being, creature or living thing in this damned castle that cared about him. That thought and the soft chirping and warm fur of his otter curled up by his pillow allowed him to relax, letting sleep claim him again.


	5. Otter? What Otter?

**Otter? What Otter?**

The return of the Dark Lord meant an immediate increase in misery accompanied by an equally large decrease in free time. Instead of spending the summer in his lab researching various potions he now had to prove his loyalty to his former master and try to secure a position by his side while other Death Eaters tried to bring him down. Luckily the Dark Lord thought Severus was best put to use by spying on Albus rather than harrassing Muggles, but he still had to plan a few raids on Muggles and Muggle-borns and join some of them to get the others off his back. The whole thing disgusted him: the Death Eaters hungry for chaos and panic, Albus stating that he had signed away his choice in the matter a long time ago, the fact that he had once chosen this path voluntarily.

Albus had reinstated the Order of the Phoenix and this time invited Severus to join. This too meant that his spare time was cut short, and to make matters worse, the headquarters were located in the house of his former nemesis. Every meeting with the Order ended with someone provoking him, usually Mad-Eye or Black but sometimes Molly Weasley or one of the others. Still, he ended up appropriating a bedroom for the summer as there wasn't much point for him to return to his own shabby home if he had to go to Grimmauld Place all the time. The Weasleys spent way too much time there but at least they collectively acted as a redheaded buffer against Black and to a lesser extent Lupin who had become slightly more humble after almost a year on perfectly brewed Wolfsbane.

Miss Granger arrived during the second half of July and was immediately swarmed by the horde of Weasleys. He idly wondered what the collective noun for weasels might be while they crowded her and asked her a hundred questions without listening to the answer. A confusion of weasels? It didn't take many nights after that at Grimmauld Place to get final confirmation of his otter's identity when she showed up in his chosen bedroom and squeaked happily at him which made him a bit uneasy at first before deciding that she was still Mi, after all. Unfortunately, it also didn't take very long for that mongrel Black to notice Miss Granger. He had been confined to the house as the Ministry still thought him a criminal, not that Severus disagreed with that opinion, and wasn't able to carry out any missions for the Order. At any rate, Black was decidedly short on both action and female company, and seemed to have latched onto the idea that Miss Granger might be a suitable conquest. Severus could see that she was uncomfortable with the attention but that she didn't know how to tell him off which was precisely what the bastard was counting on.

He had taken to spending his evenings in the Black library whenever he could since most of the others never entered the room, preferring to hang out in the drawing room or the dining room or kitchen. Soon enough she started joining him, making herself comfortable on the couch with a side table dragged into position for the various tomes and notebooks she kept, as well as the ubiquitous cup of tea. Once or twice one of the Weasleys tried to coax her out to join them, but a dark glare from Severus had them scampering. She was surprisingly decent company even when not an otter, bringing him tea when she fetched a cup for herself and otherwise remaining quiet.

Another day dawned and he entered the kitchen in search of some sustenance. Miss Granger was there already, preparing scrambled eggs while Black was standing just a little too close to her, almost embracing her from behind and most definitely peeking down her loose t-shirt over her shoulder. She shot Severus a pleading look when she noticed him, and Black finally took a step back and glared at him.

"Miss Granger," Severus stated in a bored tone, "I consider you passably decent at Potions. Would you care to assist me with the brewing for the Order?"

"Oh, you do?" she answered with an almost squeak. "I mean, yes sir, I can do that. When do you want to start?"

"Finish your breakfast first and meet me in the lab in half an hour." He poured some coffee for himself. Normally he would often end up skipping breakfast but since she wasn't finished yet he took a piece of toast with some marmalade and sat down at the far end of the table. Miss Granger hurriedly finished her scrambled eggs and all but ran from the room.

Black sauntered up towards him and tried to look menacing. "So, Snivellus, you want the bird for yourself? What makes you think she'd choose you?"

He glared at his former tormentor. "Unlike you, Black, I do not prey on underage schoolgirls. You should be grateful that she's willing to do some of the brewing for the Order, for your wolf friend's sake if nothing else."

She was actually rather useful in the makeshift potions lab he had arranged in the former pantry, now enlarged and outfitted with cauldrons and storage shelves, and he had her start brewing Blood-Replenishing Potions with some slight modifications that made the brew more efficient. When she had finished that to an acceptable standard, he had her continue with Healing Potions and a few others they wanted to have in stock while he continued with Lupin's next batch of Wolfsbane.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," he began while she was bottling Calming Draught, "have I misread the situation? Is the dog's attention actually welcome?"

She nearly dropped the vial she was filling, her eyes snapping to his. "Sirius? No! I don't want him to… I don't want him like that! Sir."

He nodded, relieved to hear it. Somehow he was beginning to feel as protective of her as he was of Mi. "I have noticed. Try not to be alone with him and don't be afraid to be rude. You are allowed to tell him off or to slap his hands away, Miss Granger. He's rather counting on you not wanting to stir the pot."

"It's hard, he's Harry's godfather," she murmured. "I don't feel safe staying here."

"I shall teach you some wards for your bedroom door, then. Seek out the twins, they should have some useful tricks up their collective sleeves."

"Thank you, sir," she said with a weak smile.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The new term brought another disaster to the DADA position although this time Albus claimed it wasn't his fault. The Dark Lord also denied involvement in her appointment and asked Severus to keep him updated. It didn't take long for Madam Umbridge to show her true colours and gradually all of the staff — apart from Filch — banded together in utter loathing of the pink meringue that was slowly insinuating herself into every possible aspect of the school. Luckily the Dark Lord didn't call on him too often now that the school year had started but he still had the occasional sleepless night spent kneeling in the mud somewhere listening to his ramblings.

Now that he was sure of her identity, it was obvious that something seeped through the otter bond to Miss Granger despite her still apparently not being aware of the fact that she oftentimes spent the nights as an otter. He would tell Mi things that he later saw Hermione act on, such as Potions techniques and various useful charms, and when he mentioned the use of Murtlap essence to her he soon saw his stores of it shrinking.

They played the piano as well whenever he could carve out some time, bickering over which piece to play. Since he had the hands that did the actual playing, he won the arguments almost half the time and started working on the late Beethoven sonatas while Mi still preferred Chopin and Liszt.

Potter was as mouthy and annoying as ever in Potions and seemed to be at odds with almost everyone, although even Severus gave him a pass when it came to Umbridge. He'd heard about the secret student organisation the Gryffindors had formed, apparently for learning how to fight, and privately thought it was a good idea. His own Slytherins were also mobilising for something. Several of them had parents in the Death Eater ranks at various levels, and so their reactions varied from wanting to join the fight on the Dark Lord's side to others doing all they could to avoid attention from Malfoy and his cronies.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

She clearly had something to show him, one rainy late Sunday evening in November. Her excited squeaking was even more insistent than usual and she spun around chasing her own tail like a dog that had just been told it would be taken for a walk with the promise of balls to fetch. Grumbling, but secretly pleased, he let her lead the way through the halls of Hogwarts. Up, up they went, their path winding through side corridors and half-forgotten staircases just to avoid being seen by anyone else. Her keen nose and his knowledge of the Castle let them pass through unhindered up to the fifth floor. He had never been to the prefects' bathroom before, since he was never a Slytherin prefect, but he recognised the location. She bounced like a ping pong ball as he put his hand on the door, feeling the Castle grant him entry since Mi was there.

The bathroom was stunning with a swimming-pool sized tub that seemed to grow even as he watched, to adapt to a certain otter. Huge stained-glass windows overlooked the sunken pool which Mi immediately bounded up to and with a few commanding squeaks filled with water, bath salts and some oil that had the whole bathroom smell vaguely of flowers and the sea. She chirped impatiently at him for being slow and dove in herself. He grumbled at her just on principle but shrugged out of his clothes, Transfigured a pair of swimming shorts for himself and joined her in the salty water. Somehow she managed to get the Castle to add waves to it, making it feel even more like the sea, or so he presumed since he'd never actually had the chance to go swimming in the ocean.

"Thank you, Mi," he said before they left the bathroom after at least an hour in the pool. "You're the best otter friend I've ever had."

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The Christmas break was hectic with Severus needing to brew antivenin for Arthur while the Dark Lord regularly requested his presence, tasking him with planning the raid on Azkaban to free the Lestranges and the others there. He had argued that he shouldn't join the raid as he needed to keep his cover at Hogwarts but the Dark Lord had merely sniped at him to remember his mask and stop being silly, so he didn't have much choice in the matter.

To top it all off, Albus also forced him to teach Potter Occlumency. He couldn't see the logic behind it, why couldn't Albus do it? The old man was one of the best Legilimens in the world after all and knew very well what Occlumency training entailed. If the trainer and the trainee didn't trust each other, how would the boy ever make progress in shielding his mind? Was that his plan, somehow, to keep Potter failing at Occlumency and the two of them at each other's throat? To what end? Severus hadn't managed to make the Headmaster explain himself further, as always, and so he was stuck with the unpleasant task without any way out, as always.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The days lengthened and the rumblings of confrontation both with the Dark Lord and with Umbridge grew louder. Bellatrix was even worse than before her imprisonment and strongly disliked that Severus had the Dark Lord's approval, which she loudly proclaimed as often as possible.

It was a relief to have an occasional squeaky companion who didn't judge him, didn't try to kill him, and didn't try to manipulate him other than making him play the piano for her and ordering salmon and oysters from the kitchens. He took her along on nightly rounds, riding on his shoulders, hidden in his cloak. Although he still didn't speak Otter they were able to work on pranking Umbridge together. He knew very well where the confiscated WWW contraband was stored and might have accidentally dropped a couple of jars of Weasley's Snowstorm in the DADA classroom one time, causing the whole room to succumb to a blizzard the next morning, and he might have happened to undo the wards to her very pink office another evening so that Mi could deposit some Sugar Hexes in her sugar bowl.

Umbridge did see them a few times. At one such time, Mi barely made it out with her hide intact after Umbridge attempted to chase her down the corridor after the otter had deposited a couple of WWW Stink Pellets under Umbridge's favourite chair in the staffroom. Luckily the otter was much faster than the toad.

"Snape! Did you see an otter?" Umbridge shrieked at him, face red with exertion.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Otter? No, last I looked the natural habitat of otters did not include Scottish magical boarding schools." He was glad for his dark voluminous robes that hid the scurrying of said animal up his back. She was becoming a little too large for that to work out smoothly. "Are you quite well? I have a few potions that might help if you are seeing imaginary creatures."

"No, it was here! Look!" Umbridge waved her arm around as if to point something out.

He tilted his head in concern. "No, I still fail to see any otters, invisible or not. Are you sure you don't want a potion, High Inquisitor?"

Umbridge growled at him and stalked away, leaving a rather smug Severus and a very triumphant otter behind, not that she noticed.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Dolohov, bloody blasted Dolohov, he would kill him. And the kids, for good measure. What did they think they were doing, running off to the Department of Mysteries like that? The whole mess was a complete disaster but at least the Death Eaters had suffered some setbacks too, with the blasted prophecy destroyed and several of them arrested. Black was gone, too. Not that Severus cared for the man but it was such a pointless death.

He sat vigil by her bed once the rest of the Castle had fallen asleep. She was stable, for now, but the wound was still open and tainted with Dark magic that Poppy hadn't managed to drain completely. A low groan was his only warning as she shifted in her sleep, transitioning without warning, her form shrinking as Mi emerged. She immediately tried to move from the bed but he was there with a hand to stop her, the wound as angrily vicious on her otter form as on her human form. She whined but calmed down as he scratched her chin. "You're safe, Mi. Don't move." He kept up a steady stream of comments to keep her calm while Summoning some potions from Poppy's stores. Once the pain relief potion had started working she was able to relax, allowing him to assess the wound again. Something about her smaller body or her otter shape made the residual Darkness react but that in turn meant it was easier to banish it. A black oily sludge started seeping from the angry-looking gash when he started chanting a healing incantation over it, dripping down on the floor where it evaporated since it now lacked a host.

Finally the Darkness was gone and only the regular wound remained. He drew a shaky breath, adrenaline finally receding now that she appeared to be fine. She would live and recover.

Mi whined at him, taking his hand hostage as she settled in bed again, making herself comfortable. It didn't take her long to fall asleep and start snoring softly, and just as he heard Poppy's footsteps approaching her form shimmered again and Miss Granger reappeared. He pulled the blankets back over her but she didn't stir.

He made himself scarce just in time, too exhausted to explain anything at all to Poppy, and heard her surprised exclamations over the almost healed wound as he left for his own otter-less bed.


	6. An-Otter Surprise

**An-Otter Surprise**

What a miserable summer. Albus had managed to get himself cursed and Bellatrix had managed to whisper enough venom in the Dark Lord's ears to ensure he had to put up with Wormtail as an involuntary house guest in his shabby home. She'd also manipulated Narcissa into asking him for an Unbreakable Vow, so he knew that one way or the other his life was forfeit by the end of the new school year, as there was absolutely no way out of the dreadful task he was now burdened with. For once the start of the school year was a relief as it got him out from his rat-infested home and forced him to think of something other than impending doom, although not even the fact that Albus had granted him the DADA teaching position as a conciliatory gesture was enough to pull him out of his dark moods.

Slughorn was back and as jovially annoying as he used to be when he last taught at Hogwarts. Apparently Albus had promised Slughorn that he wouldn't have to brew potions for the Infirmary since Severus would, obviously, be happy to continue doing so. Only a week into term, Slughorn had also started talking at length about the Potter brat's supposed brilliance in Potions which had Severus wonder if Slughorn needed better glasses or if someone had played a prank on the man using Polyjuice.

During one of the first staff meetings of the term Minerva had informed everyone of Miss Granger's upcoming seventeenth birthday which had Severus ask snidely if he was supposed to buy all the Gryffindors birthday presents, now. Still, he had carefully filed away the information just in case Mi happened to show up that day. She was always easy to please with a platter of seafood and the promise of a bath, after all.

Mi did actually show up the evening before her birthday, just after curfew, and they spent some time in his lab before going to sleep. In the dead of night he was suddenly awoken by a shriek. Disoriented he sat up only to find his arms full of witch, rather than otter.

"Professor Snape? Get off me at once!" She tried to simultaneously push him away and pull the blanket high over her flannel pyjamas which merely caused her to get stuck in the sheets.

"Miss Granger, calm down," he begged her, knowing full well that Miss Hermione Granger would do no such thing. She leapt off the bed and took off through the first door she found which happened to be the bathroom. He swiftly pulled his black bathrobe over his own scruffy nightshirt and moved into the sitting room while she was still hiding in the bathroom. As she appeared in the doorway and warily looked around, he suddenly saw his chambers as if with her eyes for the first time. Small, shabby and cramped with run-down furniture and dark colours. A bachelor pad, and a rather sad one. Suddenly embarrassed, he turned away from her and called for an elf to bring up some tea for them.

"Sit, Miss Granger," he said, gesturing towards his armchair while he took the piano stool.

"These are your quarters, sir? What am I doing here? How did I end up here?" she asked, arms crossed.

The tea had arrived and he levitated a cup to her, white no sugar like she usually took it in the Great Hall. She eyed him, frowning, but accepted the cup.

"I shall tell you, Miss Granger. Do not interrupt me."

And so he did. He told her the whole story of a young otter inexplicably appearing in his bedroom the night of the sorting, of how she had told him her name. Their nights together over the years. Piano, potions, reading. Pranking Umbridge last year, and the way she'd showed him the Prefect's Bathroom. He did gloss over the fact that she had often slept in his bed, curled up next to him. He told her of his suspicions regarding her identity, how he had tried to figure it out before deciding he didn't want to know, the final confirmation last summer after the wretched Ministry raid.

She'd started crying silently, for some reason.

"That explains why I've always trusted you, sir," she whispered once he had talked himself hoarse.

He was surprised to hear it. People usually didn't trust him.

She fidgeted, frowning. At least she had calmed down some while he talked. "But I still don't understand, am I an Animagus? I've never bothered to learn it?"

"I haven't a clue how you can be an accidental Animagus," he admitted. "Yet here you are."

Focusing her gaze on him as if to assess him she finally asked, "Sir, if what you say is true, and I don't really doubt it although it sounds completely absurd, could you prove it somehow?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly without borrowing Albus' Pensieve, but I could perhaps jog your memory a bit, Miss Granger." He swivelled to face the piano. "This is Mi's favourite," he told her as his fingers sought out the keys for Chopin's Nocturne Opus 9. He could play it from memory by now, and closed his eyes, getting lost in the swelling and fading rhythm of the piece, until he was startled by a hand on his shoulder and nearly lost track.

"It's my favourite as well," Miss Granger whispered.

"Do you play?" he asked her once his fingers had stilled.

She merely nodded and slowly walked around the stool, looking at his music books. He quietly slipped off the stool to stand next to the piano as she rifled through the pieces, selecting one and sitting down. He could guess which one it was without looking at it. One of his own favourites, Beethoven's Sonata no 8, Pathétique. She settled down to play, pulling the stool slightly closer.

Before she began, he asked her that.

"Would you care to guess which piece is my personal favourite, Miss Granger?"

She looked up at him, then down at her hands. "I think I know." She began playing. At first she hesitated a little but soon she found the rhythm of it although she was clearly unpracticed.

"This explains so much but at the same time nothing at all, Professor," she said, half to herself before turning towards him, eyes wide as if in wonder. "Over the years I've often woken up exhausted as if I had been up doing things at night. I've also dreamt an awful lot about otters and piano … and seafood. I didn't think wizards played Muggle instruments so I thought it was just because I've played since I was little. And your chambers are very familiar to me, especially this piano and that gigantic bath tub you have."

The corner of his mouth rose in a small smile. "Yes, that one was a gift from Hogwarts, it used to be decidedly less fancy and probably would be again if Albus got wind of it."

That statement made her smile in return. "I won't tell, promise."

He finished his tea, her cup was already empty.

She took a deep breath, lost in thought, lower lip between her teeth. "Now what?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I shall have to escort you back to Gryffindor tower. It is way too late to make any decisions tonight about something you cannot control. Perhaps you ought to ask Minerva about the transformation so that you learn how to control it. I trust I don't have to tell you not to mention any of this to anyone outside of these rooms?"

Her eyes snapped to his. "Of course not, sir. Not a word. I wonder…" She bit her lip again, hesitating, and her gaze lingered on the piano.

"You are welcome to play if I'm not otherwise occupied," something made him say, to his astonishment as much as hers.

Briskly he moved to put on his teaching robes again and escorted her out of his quarters to make the trek up to Gryffindor tower. They heard Filch shuffling along in a side corridor but managed to avoid him and Mrs Norris.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Granger," he said softly just before she woke the Fat Lady to give her the password.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a quick smile flashing his way.

Although he was short an otter, he was still rather content by the time he returned to bed.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

To his surprise, she returned. Both as an otter occasionally at night, but also as herself.

The first evening she was terribly embarrassed when she knocked on his door. He raised an eyebrow at her being out after curfew but let her in without further comment and put on some tea. She beelined straight for the piano and settled down to play while he returned to the armchair and the latest potions journal after putting her cup on a rickety side table next to the stool. She played angrily, wildly, letting everything out through the keys that she had to keep under control during the school days. Occasionally she missed a note and growled in frustration but gradually the tempo slowed and she chose other pieces, calmer ones. Neither of them spoke. He wasn't used to hearing others play. It was nice, a companionship, something foreign to him that he had forgotten he was missing.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured as she rose to leave.

"No, thank you," he told her and saw her eyes widen, unaccustomed to such words from his mouth.

He escorted her back again, Disillusioned, and only turned back once he saw her safely through the portrait hole.

She showed up when she needed a break from immature dormmates, when she wanted to discuss magical theories or something else she'd read, when she wanted to play the piano or hear him play. A few times she fell asleep on his couch when he played and she read something and he covered her with a tartan plaid that Minerva had gifted him one Christmas some years ago. He didn't have the heart to wake her but she was always gone when he woke up in the morning.

Apparently she had a Time Turner. He had suspected as much after the dual otter evening some years ago. Minerva and Albus had given it to her in her third year, once again showing their Gryffindor bias by entrusting such an object to a student. She thought she was already about two years older than her peers, and still used it mainly to study or catch up on sleep.

"You cannot fix everything through Turning," he admonished her.

She looked at him solemnly and nodded; he suspected that she knew from personal experience.

Somehow he still thought it felt completely right to have Mi-the-otter in his bed at night whenever she showed up and squeaked at him. It was as if she and Hermione were different individuals as he would never in a million years accept sharing a bed with a student. He had asked if she had made any progress with voluntary transformation, and if she recalled what she'd been doing as otter, but she merely shook her head and said she was too busy to focus on it and that the memories were vague and distant.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

And then.

Flitwick at his door, shouting something about Death Eaters in the castle, Luna Lovegood of all people outside of it, and her, of course, who else. Flitwick went down easily despite his past as a duelling champion, Luna rushing past him to help her diminutive Professor, leaving him face to face with her. He couldn't help it, he gently cupped her cheek, she leaned into his touch.

"Mi," he whispered.

"Be careful," she murmured and to his astonishment she rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Severus."

He turned on his heel and stalked off.

That hurt worse than killing Albus, her trust, her touch, his name on her lips, her faith in him, and how he would inevitably have to tear it to pieces and most likely never see her again.

 

**~^oo~oo^~**

**A/N:** You know what's coming, I told you we're following canon for a while longer…

I'm glad so many seem to enjoy this ficlet, hope I haven't turned you away yet!


	7. Otter Longing

**Otter Longing**

The worst year of his life, probably the last. He had long since made his peace with that fact, the chances of him surviving two masters pulling him in different directions were slim to none. Spies and double spies or however many iterations he was at currently never survived, effectively making enemies in both camps.

But.

He couldn't help but to feel a tiny spark of … something, when he thought about his future. A small furry otter with an overly cheerful attitude had crashed through all the defences he had so carefully erected. He wanted to see what would happen to her. He wanted to be there when it did. Why, though? He couldn't exactly tell.

He had never put much stock in the company of other people but now that he was completely cut off from any positive interactions he realised that he actually did miss his colleagues. Instead he was stuck managing two deranged sadists trying to torture children while everyone else thought even worse of him.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Blasted Albus, sending him out on a fool's errand in the middle of the night during winter. And for what? To dump a sword in a lake so that someone could play the part of King Arthur and fish it out? He wasn't exactly a good candidate for Nimue, he thought, but nonetheless he summoned his Patronus and watched the familiar doe go seek out Potter.

He could sense her wards. She was good, nothing gave her away apart from the fact that he was very familiar with her magic.

The faint shuffling of webbed feet was his only warning before he was assaulted by a small furry creature. He sank down on the ground, hugging her tight, her fur and whiskers tickling his nose, heedless of the tears that tracked down his cheeks until she started licking them off. She was skinny and her fur had lost a lot of its shine. He hadn't thought to bring any food for them and it would be too dangerous to return, but at least he could give her some potions that he always kept in his robes. She protested when he tried to shift her weight around to dig out the vials but accepted them when he tied them up in a handkerchief and gave them to her.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

He got the shock of his life when his wards were breached as he sat buried in paperwork late one spring evening and something crashed down on top of his desk in the Headmaster's office. One otter in a trail of blood, unconscious and shaking with seizures. Swearing he flew up from his office chair and levitated her to his — Albus' — private sitting room, away from prying portraits and uninvited guests.

"Dipsy!" he bellowed causing a startled elf to appear. "Get me Minerva and Poppy, here, now! Don't let anyone see them!"

The elf was gone almost before he had finished the sentence.

Minerva was the first to appear, disoriented from being abruptly elf-napped.

"Headmaster," she said, her pinched disapproval sharp enough to cut.

He was kneeling on his carpet in front of one seizing otter, the puddle of blood around her growing ever larger.

"There is no time, Minerva, help me! She's stuck as an Animagus and I can't heal her like this! It's Dark magic, she's bleeding out!"

"Who, Snape?"

"Hermione Granger, now please help me!"

Minerva looked completely stunned for a second, staring at him with wide eyes and a slack mouth, before snapping back to reality. He needed her to try to reverse the transformation, it was a complex piece of magic to attempt even with a calm patient that wasn't bleeding out and convulsing, and he really couldn't spare the effort.

Poppy had arrived too and assessed the situation with a Healer's efficiency, briskly ordering Dipsy to fetch her several potions and bandages.

"Severus, work on the cursed wounds," she ordered him while she forced a few potions down the otter's throat in half doses to start with due to her size.

"I am!" he snapped but felt relieved nonetheless that Poppy was there and in charge. He started chanting the healing incantation over the wounds and slowly managed to expel the Dark residue so that they could close. There was an uneven line of bleeding scratches on her left front leg that were also infused with Darkness but they weren't as deep as the wound on her throat.

Finally Minerva managed to reverse the transformation. She gasped when Hermione appeared where the otter had been, horribly filthy and thin, still seizing from what must be Cruciatus aftershocks, and with what he now recognised as Dear Bella's handiwork on her arm. The sight of the word written there made his blood go cold. He'd kill the horrible woman himself as soon as he could, Dark Lords be damned. At least the word slowly reacted to his healing spell, black sludge dripping down on the floor as it closed up letter by letter.

Meanwhile, Minerva had Transfigured one of Albus' oversized red velvet couches to a hospital-style bed that Poppy levitated their still unconscious patient onto once the worst of the bleeding stopped, allowing her to treat the other symptoms more efficiently and giving her a muscle relaxant against the Cruciatus aftershocks. Once all the bleeding wounds were properly bandaged she cleaned her patient with a series of quick charms. It wasn't perfect but the worst of the filth was gone. She cast another series of diagnostic spells and sent Dipsy to fetch some nutritional potions, frowning over Hermione's general condition. With practiced hands she poured the potions down her patient's throat, helping her to swallow.

"Thank you," he murmured shakily to both of them. The adrenaline was wearing off and he badly needed to sit down.

Minerva was about to draw breath, undoubtedly to start questioning him, but Poppy stilled her with a hand on her arm and stepped towards Severus.

"Dipsy, could you fetch some tea please? For all of us."

The elf eagerly complied, fetching a tea set and some scones for good measure.

"Severus, please tell us what's going on," Poppy asked once they were seated on Albus' other couches. The man had really had a lavish taste in design but Severus couldn't be bothered to change it even if he did prefer his dungeon quarter's furniture, shabby as it was. He had sealed his old quarters off, leaving it all in place, piano, books and potions lab included.

"I shouldn't, I really shouldn't," he murmured before taking a deep breath, bracing himself. "But I know the pair of you, like a terrier with a bone, there's no way to stop your infernal prodding. I shall tell you what I know, it's all coming to an end soon anyway."

And so he did. He talked about Albus' order to kill him, about Draco's failed quest, about balancing the slackline of running Hogwarts while Death Eaters, students and teachers all eagerly waited for him to fail.

Minerva nodded. "I should have known. Why else would you send students on detentions with Hagrid, that big oaf?"

"Indeed," he said. He felt lighter than in almost a year. Finally some allies. There was little risk that Poppy or Minerva would be interrogated by the Dark Lord before any final confrontation could take place, and they could easily handle the Carrows.

"Thank you, Severus," Minerva said with more warmth than she'd had towards him in over a year. "I must say, if Albus wasn't already dead I'd kill him myself for doing this to you."

He nodded at her. "I trust there is no need to tell you that you must continue the way you have, so that we may win this wretched war?"

Some of the fire from before was back in her eyes. "I will play my part, Headmaster."

They fell silent, drinking their tea. Poppy checked on her patient again but she seemed stable for the moment.

"What was she doing here, and why an otter?" Minerva asked.

"That I fear I have no answer for, she crashed down on my desk and I immediately called for both of you. As for why an otter, I guess it suits her."

Poppy leaned forward in her chair. "But how did you know it was her?"

Reluctantly he told them that too, of how Mi the otter had appeared in his chambers. He did gloss over her sleeping in his bed, however, but mentioned the piano.

"You should have come to me, either of you," Minerva said, frowning.

He shrugged, feeling completely drained. He had no idea why Miss Granger hadn't contacted her Head of House. For his part, he had simply wanted to keep her coming back, not that he would admit as much to Minerva.

Poppy yawned and rose to leave which caused Minerva to follow suit. "It's late. I assume you want to keep Miss Granger here?"

He nodded. "Yes, it would not do to have her in the Hospital wing and risk exposure. However I will grant you access to this room and you may Floo here or ask Dipsy to bring you. I have no idea if or when she will suddenly disappear the same way she came."

Suddenly the matron rounded on him and hugged him hard. "I'm so glad to know, Severus, I never wanted to believe you were one of them. I promise you, I'll do all I can to keep your cover. She's horribly thin, if she wakes try to get her to eat some soup. Chicken and potatoes, nothing too heavy. She must have been starving for months."

"Certainly, Poppy. You have my gratitude."

Hermione woke up not long after the two witches had left. She coughed and gasped and struggled to sit up.

"Where … where am I?"

He was at her side in an instant, wanting to hold her, wary of how she would react. "Shh, you're safe, you're at Hogwarts."

"Who … Professor Snape?"

"Severus."

Somehow one or the other reached out and she clung to his arms as she cried. He ended up sitting on the bed with her almost up in his lap. It felt right. She was safe. She was here. "You arrived here in otter form, badly hurt. I healed you together with Poppy and Minerva." He spoke indistinctly against her hair, still matted and dirty despite Poppy's cleaning spells.

"Bellatrix … it was her," she said, crying again. "It hurt so much but I didn't … I didn't tell her, Severus."

"Do you want to sleep?" he asked, not knowing what she talked about. It didn't matter.

She shook her head slowly. "I feel filthy and I haven't eaten in so long. I have to go back to the others, I don't know what happened."

He rose from the bed, holding out a hand to her. "Come, shower first."

She clung to him for stability as he led her to the Headmaster's private bathroom, an absolutely overdone Baroque extravagance complete with cherubs and too much gold. The white marble bathtub could probably house at least six people simultaneously, or one otter should it come to that. A silent command had it filling up with hot water, scented with oils of lavender and other calming, healing herbs. She perked at the sight and even shot a shy smile his way. He suspected that her inner otter was bouncing up and down with joy at the sight of so much water.

"I blame Albus for this monstrosity," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. He showed her where the towels were and asked Dipsy to sort out her clothes.

She called for him from the bathroom when Dipsy had helped her dry off and taken her clothes down to the elves for emergency cleaning. She was wrapped in his black bathrobe, way too large on her small frame. He led her to a small table in the sitting room where Dipsy had quickly and efficiently arranged for a bowl of soup, rich and warm but not too heavy on her shrunken stomach.

"Careful, don't eat too fast," he admonished her when she eyed the bowl as if she hadn't seen food in a month.

"I know, it smells delicious," she mumbled and started eating slowly, carefully.

Dipsy had brought some more tea and a sandwich for Severus as well. Apparently the elf thought he wasn't eating enough. Perhaps she was right.

"I know you have questions," he said quietly once she had finished eating. "You always do."

"I'll have to go back," she said reluctantly. "I… of course I have questions but this isn't the right time and I'm too tired. It's just… Did you come to the tent when we were in the Forest of Dean?"

He nodded, reluctantly, and she smiled at him, radiant, lighting up the whole room.

"I knew it, the next morning I found a stash of potions and your handkerchief by my pillow. I couldn't understand how they had ended up there. You dropped off the Sword of Gryffindor then for Harry to find?"

"Hermione. This is dangerous knowledge, for me, for you. You understand, surely?"

Hermione smiled at him even as her eyes started to water. "Thank you. I won't tell anyone, not even Harry, promise."

"Stay the night at least, go back tomorrow," he begged. "Do you still have the Time Turner?"

With a yawn and a nod she agreed. He lent her an old Rolling Stones t-shirt and she went to the bathroom to change. When she came out, looking rather adorable with his t-shirt almost down to her knees, she was fidgeting, clearly thinking about something.

"Yes?" he asked as he was bracing himself to leave for his own monstrously large bed.

"Um, it would be so nice to be able to sleep safely for once so I was thinking of using the Time Turner but then I can't stay in here…" she said, trailing off with a blush.

"I see," he said and led her to the bedroom which was as lavish as the rest of Albus' quarters. He'd had to remove all the mysterious gadgets that ticked and whirled and pinged at irregular intervals, but hadn't bothered to change the furniture or dark red fluffy area rugs.

She almost disappeared among the bedsheets and pillows. "Could you stay with me?" she asked in a small voice.

He raised an eyebrow at her but nodded and went to change. She scooted over to the side and sat up in bed when he returned from the bathroom, dressed in a t-shirt and slacks. He hadn't wanted to assume that she meant just that but even sitting on a chair next to her bed while she slept would have been preferable to staying in his own too big bed all alone. To his surprise she pulled out the Time Turner that she wore around her neck and gestured for him to come closer so that she could put it around his neck too before spinning the dial to send both of them back several hours.

Hesitantly he lowered himself next to her in bed, careful to keep his distance, but she snuggled up to him just as she usually did as an otter and his arms automatically went around her. She fit just right in his arms, and he slept better than he had in nearly a year.

The next morning, way too early, he lowered the Anti-Apparition wards in his tower so that she could leave after a quiet breakfast and another check-up by Poppy.

"Be careful," he said. It wasn't enough, not all he wanted to say, but words felt insufficient.

She looked up at him with large eyes that already appeared haunted, distant. "You too. Be wary of Nagini, we think she's more than she appears, she must be killed before we can take Vo- the Dark Lord down."

With a barely audible pop she was gone and he continued with the duties of yet another day, buoyed by the knowledge that he knew she was safe, at least for now, and that some of his burdens would now be shared by others.


	8. By The Strength Of Her Paws

**By The Strength Of Her Paws**

So. This was it. The end of the road for him, at the sharp end of an overgrown bloody garden hose. Why must it hurt so much?

He thought he had seen Potter, Lily's eyes in James' face. He tried to expel the memories the brat would need, hoping that it would be enough, fearing that it would all go to waste, his whole life for naught. Vaguely, faintly, he heard something, footsteps perhaps.

"Professor!"

Potions down his throat, hard to swallow, hard to breathe, something stinging on the bleeding gash that was his throat. Pain rolling over him like ocean waves, bringing sweat and shivers. Cold, why was it so cold?

"Severus, please, don't leave me!"

As he faded into unconsciousness he thought he heard a familiar squeaking. A raspy tongue all over his face, and a warm furry body on his chest.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

To his utter surprise he actually woke up again. In pain, naturally, a dull throbbing throughout his whole body. And in what appeared to be a hospital bed. St Mungo's? He made the mistake of trying to move his head a fraction and was nearly blinded by the white hot pain searing through his throat.

The ward was dark and still when he next awoke, something had disturbed him. Mi was back, curled up under his arm. He could feel her rapid breathing against his side. She was here. Safe, and alive. A weight he didn't know he had been carrying lifted from his chest and he relaxed, content to let sleep pull him under again.

"What did the bloody git do to 'Mione?" someone was shouting. It confused him, first of all since he hadn't done anything whatsoever to Hermione, and secondly because that voice sounded annoyingly familiar.

"Calm down, Ron!" someone who sounded a bit too much like Potter said. "It can't be his fault that she's turned into an otter! He was nearly dead, you saw him!"

He faded again, losing the battle with his eyelids.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

"I've never seen a case like this before," a white-bearded Healer was saying when Severus next cracked his eyes open. "Accidental magic manifesting as an Animagus transformation while the caster was asleep? Astounding. Why is she in his room?"

"Her vital signs are more stable if she's close to him for some reason. We haven't managed to revert the transformation, Healer Desmond."

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Poppy and Minerva came to see him, two weeks after the battle. Mi was still asleep, now in a cot next to his bed. The Healers had refused to tell him any more about her status but he hadn't seen her awake at any time. He managed to pull himself to a sitting position in bed with subtle help from Poppy.

"What happened?" he managed to croak. His throat was still badly damaged after the damnable snake but he had already regained some of his speech and mobility.

They told him, of the battle, Potter, Longbottom killing the damnable snake, Bellatrix, all the dead students, everyone he couldn't protect.

"How … am I alive?" he managed to ask, confused.

"Harry had told Voldemort that you were loyal to Albus to the end," Minerva said, stuttering only a little on the Dark Lord's name. "After everything went down he and Hermione told me where you were, but once we had tracked down Poppy Hermione was no longer anywhere to be found. When we got to you we found you and her, both unconscious. There were several empty potions vials around you and I also found this next to her," Minerva said and pulled out a silver chain from her robe pockets. A Time Turner.

"Apparently she had ingested some of Nagini's venom in otter form probably from licking your neck," Poppy commented. "It's a natural instinct. Since Minerva and I knew who she was we quickly arranged for both of you to come here and ensured that you'd have privacy and good care. They haven't managed to reverse her transformation yet and she's still badly affected by the venom since her bodyweight is so much less in otter form. She won't make it if she doesn't change back."

Minerva nodded. "Now that you're better I think we can soon help to try to reverse her transformation. It's clear that she's attached to you and it would make sense that she would react better to you than to a random Healer that she doesn't know."

He nodded and instantly regretted it when a white hot bolt of pain shot through his temple.

"Let's do it," he said and tried to sit up straighter.

"You're too weak, Severus," Poppy admonished.

"You know time is running out for her, we have no choice," he snapped. "Help me instead before it is too late for her."

Poppy glared at him but Minerva nodded and carefully picked up the otter, depositing her in his lap.

"Come back, Mi," he whispered into her fur. "Come back, Hermione. You need to change back now."

The otter stirred feebly in his lap.

"Remember who you are. You know who you are. The brightest witch of her age, remember? You helped me, you've helped me since you first showed up, but now you must change back so that we may help you, Mi."

Minerva started to work on the reversal spell but much as for the Healers it didn't seem to work. He made a quick decision and Summoned his wand from the bedside table despite Poppy's frown.

"Mi, look at me. Legilimens!"

Her mind was sluggish and alien, barely human at all under the onslaught of Nagini's venom and her otter body. He stood in the middle of a lake, it seemed, choppy waves all around him and a harsh cold wind messing up his hair. He called for her but nothing responded and there wasn't any thoughts or emotions he could use to pull her mind back from the depths. "Hermione!" he called but nothing answered except for the cold wind. He took one of his own memories of her snuggled up on his shoulders as he played the piano for her, and dropped it into the depths of her mind. The wind abated for a moment before going back to the same strength as before. He shared another memory with her, of brewing with her commenting the recipe in squeaks and chirps, and again something seemed to respond in her mind. A memory of Hermione in his classroom, another of the otter in his arms, Hermione in the Great Hall, Hermione playing piano, angrily that first night, more and more encounters with her in either form he pulled out and shared with her, scattering them wide in her mind's lake. His own thoughts and feelings about her as well, his disgust and concern when Black stalked her in Grimmauld Place, his fear for her life and loathing of Dolohov after they returned from the Ministry, his worry just a few weeks ago when she crashed his office and relief when they healed her. Everything went in.

At first he didn't notice anything changing but gradually it seemed as if the sun started to rise over the lake, the wind abated slowly, and then even some small islands started to show above the water. At the same time his own strength waned, he was far from recovered enough to manage such a massive magical focus for long enough.

"Hermione, come back now, you must change back!" he called again, his own voice feeble and tired before he was ejected from her mind and blacked out.

The next time he awoke Hermione Granger sat beside his bed, sideways in a scruffy armchair, reading what appeared to be an Agatha Christie novel. She had kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up under her. He had another vicious headache that felt as if a gnome was pounding him with a sledgehammer over his temples, and the light was much too bright for comfort. The effort of trying to pull her back from her mind must have nearly completely depleted his magical and physical energy, but she was back and apparently healed.

"Thank you," she whispered when she saw that he was conscious again.

"You're back," he murmured, or tried to. "Thank you."

She reached out to him and took his hand in hers, but the moment was shattered when two Healers barged in on them to check his status.


	9. An-Otter Future

**An-Otter Future**

He was, actually, recovering, although the trek in Hermione's mind had set him back substantially which the Healers were quick to let him know. The days were long and tedious and often painful but he did see some progress. He had snarled at the hospital staff in the beginning but once Healer Desmond had started discussing his treatment plan with him and made it clear that he would be out faster if he put in some effort, he was actually on board and even managed to suggest some modifications to the potions regime. Poppy and Minerva showed up regularly, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt and Bill Weasley had made the effort to see him.

Meanwhile Hermione had spent most of the summer at Hogwarts, assisting with the renovations, and was planning to go back in the autumn to finish her last school year and get her NEWTs. He could understand that drive, he would have made the same choice, especially when everything else in her life had been upended. Apparently Potter, Weasley and a few others had been given degrees without actually passing the tests.

Still, she visited a few times but somehow the air between them was heavy and tense. It was as if neither of them knew how to act around each other outside the familiarity of his chambers. Potter tagged along a few times trying to ask him about Lily, and even Weasley Jr came once together with the other two, whining all the time.

The Wizengamot was in shambles. Somehow, someone, probably Kingsley, managed to free him from any charges for killing Albus or for being a Death Eater. He suspected that Potter and Hermione had been involved, and probably Minerva and Poppy too. He didn't much care but was glad to be out of the limelight. They even awarded him an Order of Merlin, First class, but he refused to participate in any ceremonies and found himself thoroughly disinterested in the supposed honour. The monetary award helped, however.

He wasn't discharged until a few weeks into September, when the school year had already started and the number of visits had dropped considerably.

"Can I write you?" she had asked the last time she visited before going back to Hogwarts.

"Yes," he said. That one was easy.

"Will you answer?"

He had to think a little but deep down of course he knew what the answer would be. "Yes."

He got the first letter not even a week after the start of term. She wrote about the renovations of the Castle, about the new teachers, her classes, and briefly mentioned her summer alone in her Muggle parents' home. He hadn't known that she had Obliviated her parents to save them, but he had heard the Dark Lord being very upset one evening at finding them gone.

She'd hooked up with Weasley, of all people. He suppressed the painful twinges of longing that he barely understood the reason for other than the fact that of course Weasley was not good enough for her.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Somewhere, long ago, he had heard of a Wizarding community on Crete, on the southern coast away from the large Muggle towns. Apparently sun and sea would be good for his still-healing throat, and several interesting potions ingredients could be found there. He rented a small cottage up on a hill overlooking the ocean from an old witch named Melia who, he soon discovered, was not content with merely playing landlady but also regularly came by to check on him and to ensure that he was fed, since he was, after all, not female and thus clearly not able to manage something as advanced as cooking. She only spoke Greek and it took him a little while to learn the language, but soon he knew more than he had ever wanted about her three sons who had moved off to Athens, Kefalonia and Berlin, and only visited over Easter. The cottage was simple but sufficient for him with one bedroom, one living room and a tiny cooking area, and a shed that he converted to potions lab. It was situated far enough from the rest of the Wizarding village so that no one would come bother him unless it was absolutely necessary, but still close enough so that he could walk down and get the supplies he needed without even needing to Apparate.

He bought a Greek little owl, the goddess Athena's own breed. The bird named itself Paean after the physician of the gods and was decent enough company. The local magical community didn't have any decent potioneers so he could easily make a living on brewing basic potions for them, being paid either in the local currency called owls, or in bartered goods.

A nearby Muggle village had a piano at the local school. He was allowed free rein to play in the evenings and on weekends, and in return he taught the kids English. A few of the wizarding families also sent their children to him when they heard of his impromptu lessons. Although he refused to have anyone in the room when he played, he soon noticed that the locals gathered to listen outside the window that he often kept open to bring in some air.

He found that he enjoyed swimming. The sun and salt made his nasty scars heal, and he lost the pallid translucency from the dungeons and built some lean muscle on his gangly frame. Winter turned the water cold but a few strategic charms sorted out that problem so that he could continue swimming unless the waves were too rough.

The letters kept coming. To his unabashed relief she broke up with the Weasley menace some time after Christmas when the boy had apparently tried to propose to her in front of the whole clan of redheads, while she had learned of his Quidditch groupies just a few hours before from George Weasley. She'd started Animagus lessons with Minerva but he didn't hear of her succeeding with a voluntary transformation.

She kept Severus on his toes academically as well, writing commentaries on the latest journals or asking him convoluted questions about Dark magic or potions or anything else she could think of. In return, he mentioned his life in the tiny village, the new plants and other ingredients he was researching, his interactions with the locals and the irony of ending up as a school teacher again.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Her letters grew longer and more detailed as her final months at Hogwarts drew to a close. She told him of her childhood, her years in Muggle school … and of Obliviating her parents to send them away for their own safety. Reading that had him wince, although he definitely thought she'd made the right choice it was still horribly difficult to reverse memory charms, and in this case she'd removed nearly twenty years of memories. Still, he replied with what he knew about it, books and articles she should look for and other ideas and techniques she could try.

To his astonishment she asked him to accompany her to Australia the summer after she passed her NEWTS, him swapping a scorching hot Mediterranean summer for what passed for winter in a Sydney suburb. They met up in the Athenian Ministry of Magic's international Portkey office, making the rest of the journey together via Iran, India and Indonesia. He spotted her immediately as she arrived from London, her unruly hair bound in a sloppy hairband, wearing Muggle jeans and a tight top under her denim jacket, a bag that undoubtedly held more than it seemed slung across her shoulder. Her eyes though… She still had that haunted, distant look that she'd had ever since the last year of the war. She scanned the arrival hall but apparently didn't see him until he was right in front of her.

"I didn't expect you to dress like that," she admitted with a blush.

"I found that teaching robes were highly impractical given the climate," he answered with a raised eyebrow. He wore black jeans, a crisp white shirt and a black leather jacket since he couldn't very well go chasing Muggles in Australia in robes or a Victorian-style frock coat.

She looked him over which made him distinctly uncomfortable. "I like it," she mumbled. "It suits you. Some sunglasses and tie your hair back…" When she realised he'd heard her comment, she blushed even harder and looked down, busying herself with the tickets for the next part of their journey. Although Portkeying had its advantages to Muggle transportation methods, it was still a long and wearisome trip before they were able to call it a night at Sydney's magical hotel in two single rooms. He barely woke when Mi snuggled up to him in the middle of the night but her presence helped him relax.

Although they easily gained access to the Grangers' new residence with a few quick spells and some Stunners, the memory restoration process was complex and lengthy. He'd offered to brew a potion for her that would make their minds more susceptible to change, but even with the potion Hermione needed at least three hours on each of her parents to restore the memories. It was best if the original caster did the reversal as it would most likely be incomplete otherwise, and since she'd removed so much from them there wasn't any other choice. He ran interference with the one she wasn't working on to ensure they stayed sedated, kept her supplied with sandwiches, tea, Pepper-Up and headache potions, and made sure she didn't lose hope.

Finally the process was done and they woke both Grangers up, cautiously, after preparing two cups of tea for them which he doused with Calming Draught.

"Hermione?" her mother whispered and the young witch leapt into her arms.

Explaining what had happened took a long time and lots of tea. The Grangers were wary but gradually relaxed and accepted his presence too as Hermione's former Professor who had agreed to help.

"Do you still turn into an otter at night?" her father asked while her mother busied herself with dinner.

Hermione stared at her father wide-eyed, mouth gaping in astonishment before she caught herself. "Um, actually yes, but what?"

"Oh, we got the shock of our lives when we found an otter pup in our bed and you weren't there," he said with a chuckle. "I think we first noticed it when you were about six and you were the furriest little thing we'd ever seen. I don't know exactly what triggered it and it didn't happen that often, perhaps once every other month or so?"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

Her mother had come in from the kitchen. "Oh, it just seemed so completely strange so we never knew how to bring it up since you never seemed aware of it afterwards. It was quite a relief when you received your Hogwarts letter and we simply thought that it was probably normal for magical children."

Her father nodded. "Yes, and after you started Hogwarts we only saw you as an otter a few times over the holidays so we kind of forgot about it."

Hermione accompanied him back to the hotel and he got to spend yet another night with Mi the otter. She'd decided to stay with her parents for a while over the summer and so they said their goodbyes the next morning after sharing a breakfast.

"Thank you ever so much, Severus," she said and flung herself at him, wrapping him tight in a hug.

Cautiously he raised his arms and embraced her. He wasn't used to hugging. "You did all the work. I'm impressed by you, that wasn't an easy spell."

She shook her head against his chest. "No, I couldn't have without you."

When she pulled back a little to look up at him, he saw that her eyes were blank and a tear was tracking down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, wanting to comfort her but not sure how. His heart felt uncomfortable in his chest.

"Look after yourself, Hermione. Write me?"

She nodded. "Will you write back?"

The corner of his lip quirked up in a brief smile. "I'm sure Paean could find his way to you blindfolded by now."

Without thinking he pressed a kiss to her forehead. In return she traced his jaw gently, the brief contact setting his blood aflame before he disentangled himself and Apparated back to the Portkey station without looking back.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

He returned to the sleepy village and settled back into his newfound routines, swimming, brewing, taking long walks in the ravines and along the beaches where interesting ingredients could be found. As autumn came her letters resumed after her extended stay in Australia. She worked at the Ministry, in a dead-end position way below her capacity in the Department of Magical Transportation. It soon became evident to Severus if not to Hermione that the prejudice against Muggleborns still hadn't been eradicated from the bowels of the Ministry, and that her managers would never allow her to advance at the pace she ought to.

Minerva and Poppy wrote to him, telling him about the restoration of the Castle. He even started visiting the local tavern, at first content just to listen to the gossip but soon one of the older wizards challenged him to a game of chess and after he had won five matches in a row the others seemed to accept him as one of them, involving him in the discussions. They called him The Tall One, but he blended in well with the local crowd as most wizards wore black boots, black trousers, and a black linen shirt which was swapped for a white one if they wanted to feel fancy. Loose robes on top of it all completed the look and was the only visible difference between the magical and the Muggle communities.

Between Melia, the schoolchildren and the tavern crew he had all the socialisation he could ever need, and not one of them demanded anything from him. It was refreshing, and healing. While the first year in the village had healed his physical state, his mind seemed to take longer to recover, perhaps since he had never really known what it would be like to not be abused and angry, laden with guilt and misery both self-inflicted and from outside sources. It was a relief to have his days to himself. He even spent a few days doing nothing much other than sleeping and reading while drinking honeyed retsina on the roof terrace, and no one berated him for it.

His thoughts strayed more and more often to a certain witch or otter. She had grown up fast during the war years, and he had most definitely noticed in Australia that she was a fully grown adult witch, not a child anymore. He caught himself wanting to tell her what funny thing Stavros told Konstantinos in the tavern, or to show the letter that eight-year-old Eleni had written to him in English, or wondering if she would enjoy joining him on his excursions in the mountains. He worried about her situation at the Ministry and feared that she'd hook up with the wrong wizard, someone that would use her or not understand her drive for learning, someone that wasn't him.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

After his Australia tour, Melia had of course managed to pry way too much information out of him about Hermione and his past in Britain.

"So, why haven't you invited your witch here, Sevros? You should settle down with her here, you could always expand the cottage if you need more room, you know."

He glared at her but unfortunately the old witch was as immune to that as Minerva had ever been. "She was my _student_ , Melia. She's almost twenty years younger and she'll find someone better for her."

Melia cackled at that. "Oh, Sevros, men are always blind to what's in front of their noses. You love her. Go tell her that, and then bring her here and give me grandbabies."

That night he couldn't sleep, too many thoughts rushing through his mind. He gave up, grabbed a bottle of the local magical brew Frost Raki and went up to the roof terrace where he'd put a rustic garden bench made from olive wood and a small side table. The view of the distant mountains along the coast meeting the sea was lit by the full moon and the night was still warm with a light breeze carrying scents of various herbs and the sea, framed by the rhythmic song of the cicadas in the hills. His owl Paean lit down on his bench briefly and hooted in greeting before taking off again to hunt, and the bats were out catching insects, black streaks whizzing across the sky.

He couldn't get Melia's words off his mind. He had thought he was done with love, after that whole mess with Lily. He'd repaid his debt and was free of both his masters, but he was still basically the same man he had always been. Surly, difficult, short-tempered, sarcastic and craving solitude but also longing for intelligent conversation and a meaningful connection with someone. Still, someone as bright and fiercely loyal as Hermione deserved to find happiness with someone on her own level, someone younger, carefree and popular. It wasn't until he started imagining her marrying someone else which caused his heart to contract in pain, that he finally realised that Melia was right. _He loved Hermione Granger._ The thought had him down the rest of the tumbler of raki in one go, hissing as the cold vapours engulfed him.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Somehow he found himself inviting her to visit him for the summer. It must have been the Frost Raki freezing his brain, or Paean must have nicked the letter before he had managed to discard it. To his utter surprise she accepted almost immediately, and he spent the next few weeks in anxious anticipation.

He met her at the Greek Ministry of Magic, in the international Portkey section where they had met a year prior for their trip to Australia. He may or may not have arrived via Floo from the local tavern a full hour early, causing him to anxiously pace the entrance hall until a security guard snapped at him to sit down.

Finally the magic activated and half a dozen travellers holding on to a large brass ring appeared. Hermione was easy to spot, the youngest by far and to Severus' eyes she appeared radiant, almost glowing in her pale green sundress. She saw him quickly and immediately broke out in a huge smile before practically flying over to him, flinging her arms around his neck. He held her equally tight, burying his nose in her impossible hair, for now tamed in a sloppy ribbon. She smelled of books, ink and parchment, jasmine and bergamot, and just perfect.

He Apparated both of them to the cliff behind his cottage, not wishing to parade her through the tavern just yet where the Floo was. The boxy white cottage with its blue door and window trimmings contrasted with the rugged hills and the sea. With Melia's permission he had magically extended the roof towards the seaside so that the front of the cottage got a bit of shade and a good spot for a small breakfast table, and there was now a rather large potions garden by the ancient olive tree behind the building.

"Severus, this is gorgeous!" she exclaimed and promptly turned into an otter. With a series of squeaks and chirps she was off to explore the surroundings.

He smiled at her antics and went in to the kitchen to prepare a light lunch. When he returned outside, floating a tray of cheese, bread, olives and various other simple dishes behind him, she bounded up to him and smoothly transitioned back into her human form.

"I see you've mastered the transformation," he commented while pouring cucumber water for them both.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Minerva helped me. It was tricky and a bit different from the usual process since I already knew my form. I actually had to go from the otter back to human rather than the other way."

"So you're an otter becoming a human Animagus?" he said with a quirked eyebrow and a smile as he slathered soft cheese on a piece of bread.

"It seems so," she said, returning the smile.

Over the next few days they slowly became reacquainted while he showed her around the island. They went hiking to the local ravines where she immediately transformed to play in the streams even though there was little water left in them due to the summer sun. Melia of course came up to inspect Hermione and told Severus sternly that he wasn't to mess this up. The two witches got along frighteningly well despite the language barrier thanks to body language, translation spells and — he was sure — finding common ground in embarrassing him.

"Why did you come to me that first night at Hogwarts, do you think?" he asked her one day as they were out on a remote beach.

She nibbled her lip, thinking. "I'm not sure exactly. I remember the Sorting and the welcoming feast there in my first year, everything was so beautiful and everyone was happy… except for you, it seemed. It didn't look like you wanted to be there at the High Table and I remember thinking that you seemed to be someone who could be lonely in a room full of people, just like me. Apparently my inner otter agreed that you needed a friend but I have no idea how I made it to your rooms all those times."

A sunset by the sea, the full moon mirroring itself in the calm water. A shared bottle of white wine on the terrace. She sat beside him in the wooden sofa and he surreptitiously breathed in the scent of her hair, his arm slung over her shoulder, his thumb tracing patterns on her upper arm. Slowly she turned her head to look at him, her hand tracing the collar of his shirt, cupping his cheek.

"Would you kiss me, Severus?" she murmured. Her eyes were large, almost black in the moonlight.

His breath caught, had he heard that right? "Hermione, are you sure?"

She nodded, her hand wandered up to the back of his head, tangling in his hair, and somehow their lips met, chastely at first, barely touching, hesitant before deepening. She tasted of wine and the sea and her soft moans set his blood aflame. Bliss. He had never been kissed like that before, ever. He wanted time to stop, right now, please.

"Bed, Severus," she whispered breathlessly, and he scooped her up and Apparated both of them to his bedroom.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" he asked again when both of them were deposited on his bed in a haphazard tangle of limbs, concerned that she'd change her mind, or equally concerned that she wouldn't but that going further would destroy everything they'd shared so far. Still he couldn't help himself from tracing the curve of her hips, her stomach, her arms, her neck.

"I've wanted you for a long time," she answered and he was sure his heart burst from the intensity of it all. She reached for him to dock her mouth to his again and his mind went blank, the world receding away until only the two of them remained, touch, taste, scent, rhythm, together at last.

When he woke up the next morning it took him a moment to realise that she was real, this witch in his arms, that bushy hair tickling his nose. She stirred and turned her head towards him as she opened her eyes, a smile forming on her face.

"Morning," she said, raising a hand towards his face, tracing his eyebrow and jaw with a gentle touch.

"Any regrets?" he had to ask.

She shook her head and smiled. "No, none whatsoever. I'm right where I want to be. What about you?"

She suddenly looked anxious and bit her lower lip. It made him smile, why on Earth would he not be happy after that night?

"Witch, I would never let you go," he murmured and lowered his head to hers, kissing her forehead, her mouth, then moving down her body, anything to hear her moan with pleasure.

She extended her vacation another two weeks before she really had to get back to work if she wanted to stay employed. It felt as if his heart left with her, and once again Paean got to make the long flights back and forth to London.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

 **A/N:** there you go! Finally. One more chapter and an epilogue too.

So, Frost Raki is totally my invention. Figures that if Scotland has Firewhisky which they totally need to keep warm in that chilly damp climate then the Cretans would need something to cool them down, right? Imagine an aniseed flavoured drink that sort of hisses like liquid nitrogen. But magic.


	10. Otter Bliss

**Otter Bliss**

The hole in his chest where she should be grew even larger after she had been with him. To his amazement it seemed as if she felt the same, but somehow they made it through the autumn with Paean flying almost non-stop between them laden with letters. Melia smiled knowingly but refrained from commenting, and he kept busy with brewing and teaching the kids English. Hermione returned for a long weekend in September which they spent almost exclusively in bed, both of them desperate to absorb as much of the other as they could, to reassure themselves that what they had was real. He visited her once in late October, staying in her tiny rented flat just off Diagon Alley, but that trip nearly ended in disaster as he was unprepared for how difficult it was to return to England, and neither of them knew how to transition whatever was happening between them to her flat instead of his Greek cottage. She spent Christmas in Australia with her parents while Severus was invited to Melia's house where some of the townsfolk and one of her sons celebrated.

After two and a half years in Greece he was beginning to feel ready to take on the next challenge. The village life was starting to chafe just a little but it wasn't as if he had any better options. Sure he could go back to Spinner's End and start brewing from there but that wouldn't be different from what he was currently doing apart from a worse climate.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Minerva Owled him and asked if she could visit for a day or two over the Easter break. Poppy joined her, claiming she wanted to see how he was healing, but Severus suspected she just wanted to snoop. They arrived via Portkey to Athens and then Floo to the tavern where he picked them up.

"Severus, you look well," Minerva said, blinking in the strong sunshine. She looked just the same as always, stern and proud in her traditional robes.

"Thank you, Minerva."

Poppy hugged him despite his protests and soon they were walking up to the cottage with Minerva asking a thousand questions, hardly stopping for breath. Luckily they weren't staying overnight with him, instead Melia had offered to house them. _(_ _"Are you starting a bed-and-breakfast?" Severus had asked her when the topic came up. "Good idea!" she'd replied, twinkling as madly as Albus on a bad day.)_

The two witches admired the village, the view, his garden, the view again, the cottage, and the view, this time from the roof terrace where he had arranged some fruit, Frost Raki and other refreshments. Poppy seemed happy with his physical status, claiming she'd never seen him look so healthy before. Thinking back he'd actually have to agree, all that fresh air and physical work coupled with the lack of madmen had made quite a difference, especially when combined with the great food the island provided.

"Hogwarts wants you back as Headmaster, Severus," Minerva said over her watermelon salad, finally coming to the real reason for their visit. "The Castle doesn't accept me as Headmistress anymore, it worked reasonably well for a while but now it's definitely resisting me. The ghosts and paintings all say that the Castle thinks you are the proper Headmaster. It misses you."

His eyebrow rose on its own accord. "The Castle misses me? How quaint. I doubt anyone else does, however."

Minerva glared at him with pinched lips. "Yes, the Castle is definitely sulking. Just the other day it didn't let me up above fifth floor, all the staircases kept drooping instead of going up to the office. The lights in the Great Hall are flickering in what Septima claims is Morse code for _Headmaster Severus Snape_. It's sealed off your old quarters too, by the way, and last I visited Albus' old rooms the bathtub was something more akin to a water slide."

"Well, _that_ isn't my doing at least," Severus offered and helped himself to some more watermelon salad.

"One morning a few weeks ago someone or something had rearranged all the potions in my stores and pulled the ones you'd brewed out from long-term storage. They were arranged on a table in an S," Poppy said. "Meanwhile, the ones Horace had brewed were discarded in a corner. Not that I disagree with that assessment, mind you."

Severus winced. "You let _him_ anywhere near your stores? And what do you mean, you have potions I brewed still in stock? That was three years ago, at minimum!"

"Yes, as I said, we need you! I've had to brew most of the stock myself, you know how Horace is," Poppy answered.

"Horace is retiring for good now," Minerva interjected. "I have some interviews scheduled but obviously I don't have the qualifications to judge their brewing skills."

Their talk moved on to general gossip about Hogwarts, the Ministry and various ex-pupils before Melia arrived. The three witches soon started chatting like old friends and Severus was content to sit back and listen to them. His thoughts started wandering, back to Hogwarts. Could he really do it? Nearly three years had passed since that awful time but that still meant the older students would have less than fond memories of his time there. And what of the teachers?

Still, it was good to see the pair of them and over the next few days he showed Poppy his potions experiments and talked to Minerva about the current state of affairs at Hogwarts. She had plenty of ideas for reforming the school but it had apparently been difficult to navigate the Board of Governors.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Once he had made up his mind, the rest happened quickly. He paid the rent until the end of summer anyway and Melia promised to look after his potions garden.

She met him at the Portkey arrivals hall at the Ministry and only the fact that they didn't want anything plastered all over the Daily Prophet the next morning stopped him from scooping her up in his arms straight away. Instead, she led him to an abandoned office in her department, Warded it to within an inch of the poor door's life, and proceeded to snog him senseless before she reluctantly claimed she had to go back to work.

"Congratulations on your post, Headmaster," she told him while she straightened out her clothing and hair.

"Would you care to accompany me to a restaurant, say, on Friday evening?" he blurted out, suddenly inexplicably nervous.

"I would, indeed, care to," she replied, smiling, before kissing him again.

Buoyed by the feeling of elation her kisses brought he squared his shoulders and returned to Hogwarts by Floo where Minerva and Poppy met up with him. The students were still in attendance so most of the other Professors were in class or in their offices, which suited him just fine. Minerva had brought some Scottish colours and tartan plaids into the Headmistress' office but otherwise it was mainly unchanged. Still, he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to steady himself and not spiral into panic at the onslaught of memories. As he stood there in front of the Floo hearth he slowly started to sense the Castle reaching out to him, a certain awareness and slow thrum of the wards and magic that ran through it all. Minerva seemed to be right. It was welcoming him back. Once the Castle's first greeting had ebbed out it was replaced by the distinct impression that it was searching for something, or someone perhaps. He nodded and placed his hand on the mantel of the fireplace. _I will try,_ he told the Castle, feeling only slightly silly.

The next few days were filled with meetings and planning. To his astonishment the staff appeared happy to see him return. Filius had set off some sort of enchanted glitter in the staff room that flew up as soon as someone said his name. Pomona had hugged him and introduced Longbottom — _Longbottom!_ — as her new Apprentice, and the boy actually shook his hand and welcomed him back. There were a few new names as well. Andromeda Black-Tonks was coming in to teach Cultural Studies, a new class that Minerva had managed to push through as mandatory for all first- and second-years, replacing Muggle Studies and with a focus on both Muggle and Wizarding culture. Sturgis Podmore had taken over History of Magic, simply letting Binns keep the classroom he'd always taught in but moving the students and actual classes elsewhere. The new DADA teacher had actually managed to stay on for two years and seemed to be a reasonably competent, an ex-Auror that Kingsley had recommended. Minerva had brought in an American witch to teach Transfiguration but would resume the position herself next term. The Board of Governors were quick to sign off on his appointment, which made him wonder what threats Minerva had used to make them comply, but oddly enough they too seemed happy to have him return. Even the students cheered when Minerva announced the upcoming changes during dinner.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

He had booked a table at one of the fancier restaurants in Edinburgh, not caring too much for the London scene and preferring a Muggle place to a wizarding restaurant. They met up at the Apparition point in the magical quarters of Edinburgh, just off the Royal Mile, and his breath caught upon seeing her in a very lovely sparkly midnight blue cocktail dress, her hair up in a messy knot and dark brown pumps giving her a few extra inches. She smiled as soon as she spotted him wearing his usual black-and-white outfit only slightly altered to fit the Muggle destination, having swapped the frockcoat for a tuxedo and vest.

"My lady, you look lovely tonight," he told her and kissed her hand.

She giggled and kissed his cheek, claiming that she didn't want to dislodge her makeup. He immediately scoffed and stated she didn't need such things to be beautiful, but nonetheless he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her into the Muggle quarters to the restaurant a short walk away. The evening was lovely and warm but he barely noticed anything but her.

They were seated at a table with good privacy for intimate conversations, just as he had asked for. She asked him about Hogwarts and Crete, and talked about her work which still seemed to be a dead end. The food was probably excellent but his increasing nervosity made it all taste of cardboard. She was just… just everything, and who was he? A grumpy old sod with a beak of a nose, no social skills and a miserable past?

"Hermione … I wanted to talk to you about us," he began after dessert had been served and barely noticed her smile dropping. She sat up straighter in the chair and put her hands in her lap, her chocolate mousse yet untouched.

He took a deep breath. "You have been part of my life for ten years now, as a squeaky and overly inquisitive otter at night or as a wonderful companion during the day. I've come to realise that I don't want to be your _boyfriend,_ Hermione. I'm over forty, I'm soon to be Headmaster of Hogwarts again, I don't do _boyfriend_. I shouldn't ask this of you, yet I find myself too selfish to let you loose to find someone better suited. I want more, Hermione. I want you in my life forever. In my home, in my bed or in my bathtub if you prefer, by my side. Would you … would you consent to becoming my fiancée instead? To, one day when you are ready, bond with me, let me be your husband?"

She looked at him, lower lip between her teeth, tears welling up in her eyes, he couldn't read her. Finally she broke out in a radiant smile. "I thought you were breaking up with me, Severus! Yes, I want that! Yes!"

One or the other moved, he didn't know, but he found his lap full of witch and their lips met for a frantic kiss.

"Hermione, Mi, I love you," he found himself saying.

"Oh!"

She kissed him again, very thoroughly.

"I love you too, Severus."

"You do? Poor deluded little witch."

"Only you, silly. And don't sell yourself short, I like you just the way you are. Besides, where would I find anyone else with such a marvellous bathtub?"

"Indeed," he purred and kissed her again.

After hurriedly sorting out the bill and escorting Hermione to the deserted alley behind the restaurant, she Side-Along Apparated him to her tiny flat where he proceeded to very thoroughly reacquainting himself with her most delectable body, intent on discovering new ways to make her cry out in ecstasy. They managed a shower where she thoroughly returned the favour before falling asleep in a tangle of limbs, as close as possible.

The next morning after a breakfast that was hindered by them accidentally ending up back in bed a few times, he asked her to follow him to Spinner's End so that he could clean it up for a realtor. Not that he particularly wanted to go there himself but he had already told her about his shitty childhood in bits and pieces over the years, and she claimed to want to see where he grew up. She looked around the small, dusty and neglected house with wide eyes but didn't comment, other than lighting up in a smile when he asked her to carefully pack his books while he went down to the lab. There wasn't much of value to save apart from some equipment and a few ingredients with long shelf-life, and one small box carefully tucked away in a hidden cabinet. When he made it back up the stairs he saw Hermione half buried behind a stack of dusty books, lost in an old text on warding. The sight made him smile, it was so quintessentially her. When she finally noticed him she squeaked and immediately fell back into otter form, burrowing into the stack. As she sheepily looked up from underneath a small tome on Technical Transfiguration he couldn't help but to laugh at her which caused her to squeak at him indignantly. He carefully dismantled the stack and picked her up, still chuckling while she sounded like an abused rubber duck toy, and walked over to his dingy couch where he put her down beside him in order to show her the small box he had rescued from the lab.

"Hermione, Mi, this used to belong to my mother," he said as he opened the lid. Inside was a letter, a locket and a few faded photographs of a young woman, smiling, and the same woman holding a small black-haired child who stared into the camera with wide eyes. There was also a smaller box inside, covered in a faded yellow silk, which he gently lifted to show her. She transformed back to her human form and looked at him with those brown eyes, lower lip between her teeth. She gasped when he opened the lid to show a gold ring with a solitary diamond. The band split in two at the upper half, the two strands coiling around each other in lazy loops with the diamond in the centre.

"It's my one remaining item from the Prince legacy," Severus continued. "Would you consider wearing it as a symbol of my desire to bond with you?"

Once again she started tearing up and smiling at the same time, but she did hold out her hand for him to gently put the ring on her finger.

"I take that as a yes?" he said and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Severus, it's lovely," she said, inspecting her newly-adorned hand.

She pounced him again for a kiss, causing them both to topple over on the couch in a slightly dishevelled heap before he gently disengaged himself.

"Hermione, I would much rather return to your flat to continue this train of thought, and we'd much sooner get there if I can finish packing everything up here."

After summarily packing all the books and the few personal items he had left in his bedroom, Vanishing basically all the furniture and most of the household items apart from his favourite teacup and a pitcher that Eileen had always liked, he declared the house finished. Hermione helped out with some heavy-duty cleaning spells and soon the place was gutted and scoured clean down to the baseboards, and he shut the door on that part of his life with relish. The rest of the weekend was spent in her flat, with Hermione ordering takeout so that they didn't have to get dressed more often than necessary.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Summer went by quickly. Together with Minerva he interviewed several candidates for Potions and finally settled on a German wizard with good credentials from Beauxbatons. The first time Hermione visited him at Hogwarts he could actually feel the Castle's elation at having its otter back, and she was equally happy to return to the marvellous bathtub of his old quarters, and the new one up in the Headmaster's bathroom. Spinner's End sold quickly, much to his surprise.

They even managed to go back to Crete for a week. Hermione was quickly adopted by everyone there too, especially the children that he'd taught some English, and Melia was overjoyed at seeing them together and quickly arranged way too much food and visits by all the villagers who started asking about sending their children to Hogwarts now that he was there.

A week before the start of term the Headmaster always held a mandatory staff meeting in the staff office room. One by one the Professors filed in, new and old faces together. Many of them smiled at him, including Pomona and Hooch, and the new ones nodded at him in greeting. It felt odd to be at the head of the table once again but this time without the open hostility. Odd, but right, somehow. He could feel the Castle humming with contentment in the back of his mind, apparently it agreed. This time around he would be able to make the changes he wanted to see at Hogwarts, with Minerva and many of the others supporting him. Hogwarts would be a better place than it had been during his own school days here. A safer place for kids to grow up in, without the open hostility between Houses that had been so rampant during Albus' reign.

"Before we leave for the day, I should like to introduce my fiancée," he said and rose from the table as the meeting ended. A wave of his hand opened the door to the staff's sitting room, and Hermione entered, a small smile on her lips. He walked up to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. The room had gone completely silent, the new teachers looking slightly confused while the ones who had taught her ranged from Minerva's otter astonishment to Hooch's amused smirk, and Filius of course falling off his chair. Poppy and Pomona looked smugly pleased while Longbottom appeared to be slightly nauseous.

"Please welcome Miss Hermione Granger," he continued, standing behind her. "I hope you all make her feel welcome and accepted here. If anyone else of you has family that wants to stay with you please talk to me to arrange suitable living arrangements, it is time we did away with the clause that Professors aren't allowed to have a life."

The room erupted with noise when everyone started asking a million questions all at once and half the staff rose to hug Hermione.

"Congratulations, both of you," Minerva said and hugged him.

"Thank you," he managed, relieved to have her support.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

The evening before the students were to return found the two of them up in the Astronomy tower after a private dinner in the Headmaster's quarters, now redecorated in a more subdued style and with all his books and personal items unpacked. The night was still warm and unusually clear for Scotland.

"Look, a comet," she said and pointed at the sky. "Make a wish."

"I have all I ever wished for right here," he said against her earlobe and pulled her close.

"Mmhh, you say the sweetest things," she said and twisted in his arms so that she could kiss him again.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," he muttered against her mouth.

"You're a closet romantic, Severus Snape. Don't worry, I'll keep your secrets."

"You're too good to me, witch. Might I entice you to a bath to round off the evening?"

In response he got a series of squeaks and his arms full of excited otter. He Apparated both of them directly to the Headmaster's bathroom where Hogwarts had already outdone itself by filling up the now even larger tub. A house elf brought champagne, chocolate, fruit, berries and fish fillets sashimi style.

Odd how life turned itself inside out, he reflected. From abused and neglected to this. Professional recognition both as Headmaster and Potions Master, any material goods he could wish for, and a lovely witch who wanted to stay at his side, even if she occasionally happened to be small and squeaky.

"Stop thinking and kiss me," Hermione admonished him, now back in her deliciously naked human form, and all thoughts fled as he did just that.

 


	11. Otter-ly Content

**Otter-ly Content**

Hermione looked out over the Hogwarts grounds from the balcony that Hogwarts had provided for the Headmaster's quarters. The summer day was sunny and warm and all students had left for their holidays just two days prior. Some of the Professors had already left but many were staying another week or so to wrap up their work.

She'd lasted half a year at her old job at the Ministry after Severus' return to England, before she quit and moved all her belongings up to Hogwarts. Filius and later Septima had taken her on as an apprentice in Charms and Arithmancy, but she had stayed away from teaching and had instead taken over the Deputy Headmistress post from Minerva. She worked as an independent consultant on wards and charms, occasionally travelling to various sites when her clients requested it, and she also took on commissions to perform advanced Arithmancy calculations if the problem was interesting enough.

Her husband was lazing about on the lawn, soaking up the sun like the big cat he was. It had taken him a year after she moved in to make the shift, under Minerva's tutelage. He'd practiced in secret, not telling her about it until he actually managed the transformation, and had scared her half to death when her otter suddenly found herself nose-to-nose with a huge white tiger. He was marvellous, she thought proudly, as strong and graceful in that form as he was as a wizard.

She shifted into her otter form and squeaked at the Castle which happily complied and opened up a waterslide in the wall. Over the years Hogwarts and Hermione had most definitely reached an understanding which now included magical waterslides in the walls or along the banisters of the moving staircases, new fountains in the courtyards and a few waterfalls in select spots. The students were happy to see her surf past them in her otter form, on her way somewhere or other, be it up or down the stairs. A quick and spatially defying ride later, connecting parts of the Castle that shouldn't have been connected logically speaking, she came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase outside the main entrance doors. The white tiger lifted his head and gave her a deep rumble in greeting when she bounded across the lawn, pouncing on him before she shifted forms.

"Husband," she said and kissed his tiger nose, snuggling into his soft fur. He still made her heart sing. They'd married two years after he proposed, on the lawn of Hogwarts a week after all the students had left for their summer break. It had been a lovely ceremony attended by her parents, most of the Hogwarts staff, Harry and a few other friends of hers, and Melia together with some of the other Cretan villagers. They'd started sending their children to Hogwarts rather than Beauxbatons now and Severus had managed to hire two new Professors from there, one for Care of Magical Creatures after Hagrid had taken off for France, and one for Classical Languages and World Magic, a new elective course that taught both Greek and Latin as well as magical systems from other parts of the world. Severus had bought the Cretan cottage off Melia who had in turn bought another building in the village and set about turning it into a perfect bed-and-breakfast for visiting magical folk. The whole village prospered, especially after news got out that Harry Potter himself had spent a week there with his new wife Ginny and the tourist stream from Britain increased tenfold. The Snapes went to stay in their cottage for a couple of weeks every summer, and for a few weekends during the year as well whenever they could.

Their own two children were out playing somewhere with Minerva who spoiled them worse than any grandmother ever had. Richard Arcturus Snape was seven, a quiet boy with the same black eyes and hair as his father, and Eleanor Rose Snape would soon turn five which everyone she talked to quickly learned, and she had been planning her birthday party for the past three months, with details changing every week. Luckily the house-elves were happy to comply, and both students and staff were happy to spend time with the children.

Richard was also an accidental Animagus, which Hermione had discovered one night when she went to check on him in his bed and saw a tiny arctic fox pup instead of her son, his fur a fuzzy dark grey bordering on black. She'd merely smiled and asked the Castle to look out for its fox as it had for its otter, letting him sleep curled up on himself in the bed, his nose on his tail. Eleanor had so far not changed into anything but enjoyed being with her otter mother and tiger father immensely.

A few of the newer Professors had also started families, either moving to Hogsmeade or expanding their living quarters in the Castle. Speaking of which…

"Husband, it seems we might need to expand our quarters again," she said, a blush rising on her cheeks.

He immediately changed back to his human form and pulled her down to him for a kiss, still lying on the grass with his teaching robes spread under him as a blanket. He looked just the same as ten years ago, his hair still raven black and his style of dress still rather monochrome. Laughter lines could be seen at the corner of his eyes however as a counterpoint to the crease on his forehead from scowling, a testament to the change that the end of the war and his new family had brought into his life.

"Are you sure? Yes, of course you are. I suspect Poppy will be most pleased as I heard whispers of a bet between her and Minerva. I shall brew you the proper prenatal potions right away. How far along do you think you are?"

"Not very, five or six weeks at most," she answered. "I figured something was up when I couldn't stomach the anchovies at breakfast. And what do you mean, are they betting on us?"

He chuckled and smiled at her, one of those lovely smiles that transformed his whole face, making him look completely irresistible.

"Of course they are, whatever else would they do with their time and spare change?"

Still, she had to make sure. "Are you happy with this?" she asked somewhat anxiously.

"Always, my love," he told her, pulling her tight to him.

 

**-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-**

**A/N:** That's it for this little story! Thanks to everyone that has commented and followed along! It's been a fun story to write and do research for… any excuse to look up otter videos is good, right?


End file.
